


A Dream Within a Dream

by InfiniteInspirit



Series: Unleashed Verse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Cedric Diggory Lives, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dark Arts Aren't Evil, Dark Magic Isn't Evil, Disowned Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Friendship, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Lucius Malfoy is Scary, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Mentor Severus Snape, Ministry of Magic, Neutral Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Pre-Slash, Prophetic Dreams, Prophetic Visions, Psychic Luna Lovegood, Seer Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Visions, seer!Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-04-22 12:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14308977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteInspirit/pseuds/InfiniteInspirit
Summary: Following the events of the Triwizard Tournament, Draco returns to Hogwarts after a rough summer. Dealing with old grudges, magically induced headaches, and threats from all sides, Draco must continue to trust in his Sight and his friends before it's too late. Seer!Draco, eventual Draco/Charlie. Sequel to Sight Can Be Deadly, second book of the Unleashed verse.





	1. Chapter 1

_Take this kiss upon the brow!  
And, in parting from you now,  
Thus much let me avow:  
You are not wrong who deem  
That my days have been a dream;  
Yet if hope has flown away  
In a night, or in a day,  
In a vision, or in none,  
Is it therefore the less gone?  
All that we see or seem  
Is but a dream within a dream._

_I stand amid the roar  
Of a surf-tormented shore,  
And I hold within my hand  
Grains of the golden sand--  
How few! yet how they creep   
Through my fingers to the deep,  
While I weep--while I weep!  
O God! can I not grasp  
Them with a tighter clasp?  
O God! can I not save  
One from the pitiless wave?  
Is all that we see or seem  
But a dream within a dream?  
~ Edgar Allen Poe, A Dream Within a Dream _  
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  
Draco Black was not having a good summer. 

In fact, if there were a worst summer ranking, his summer would be right up there as a probable winning contestant. Things had started off innocently enough. He’d left Hogwarts and met Tracey Davis in Hogsmeade. She had brought along several things relating to Muggle culture and they had grabbed a quick lunch so that Tracey could explain a few basic things before they ventured in the Muggle world. Draco was an attentive student, taking in the information with a blank face and nodding when appropriate. 

When they left Hogsmeade, things continued relatively well. Tracey helped Draco buy a Tube pass, charging it up with enough cash that he likely wouldn’t have to recharge it for the rest of the summer (though she explained how to, in case he needed to). They took the Tube to central London, where Tracey had found a reasonably-priced flat of a university student away for a summer internship. The student met the two of them at the flat and showed them around before they negotiated the rent and settled the deal. It was made clear that anything in the flat was available for Draco’s use, including the food and cleaning supplies, except for the student’s personal possessions placed in a locked bedroom. Draco let Tracey do most of the talking, as he barely understood a word (refrigerator? new appliances? laundry machine?). She assured him the price was very good, and the space was clean, if small. 

The student handed them the key and left with a smile, first month’s rent in hand. He didn’t even have to sign anything, as apparently Tracey’s older sister was his new landlord’s close friend. 

Tracey began a second house tour, this one specifically geared toward the house’s technology. Draco learned about light switches, how to use the bath, the various gadgets in the kitchen…it was a novel experience. Draco was amazed at the Muggle technology. Sure, some things were less efficient (namely, laundry) but overall, he was impressed. 

Draco unshrunk his trunk after removing it from his pocket. It was locked with multiple privacy charms, so he had no apprehension about leaving it in plain sight. He unlocked his trunk and hefted a small purse of several thousand pounds, sufficient to live out the summer. At Tracey’s urging, he withdrew five hundred pounds and they left the flat. 

Tracey introduced him to all the relevant areas nearby, as well as the shopping centers where he could buy clothes, food, and other necessities. Draco made some basic clothing purchases, they ate dinner out, and then Draco walked Tracey to the Tube, where she headed to her home for the night after they agreed on a meeting place and time for the following day. Draco returned to the flat and began casting basic magical protections and wards. He made sure to erect a ward that allowed him to cast magic inside the flat without it being detected as underage magic. All in all, Draco was not overly thorough on the protection wards, because no one would look for a former Malfoy in Muggle London. 

That was likely the start of things taking a turn for the worse. However, Draco was blissfully unaware and slept well in the flat’s spare bedroom. 

The next morning, things continued along a similar track. Tracey introduced Draco to the wonders of a mobile phone, the Internet, and television. They went to the nearest mobile service provider and opened an account for Draco. He decided to select the cheapest phone, knowing that when he returned to Hogwarts it would be useless. Fortunately for Draco, the cable and internet services were already provided and paid for in the flat, as he likely wouldn’t have indulged in them if he’d been required to pay. The previous day’s instructions on laundry and cleaning were put to use, and Draco discovered that he absolutely abhorred cleaning and especially laundry. He didn’t intend to do it again for the duration of his stay, preferring simple charms to the manual labor. 

Next on the agenda was cooking. To his surprise, Draco greatly enjoyed the task, finding it comparable to potions. Tracey, who deemed herself a decent but basic cook, admitted that his skill at cooking probably surpassed her own already, simply because of his precision when following recipes. 

Days passed and Draco adapted to the new lifestyle. There were occasional moments where he was completely baffled by some element of the Muggle lifestyle, but for the most part he was able to blend in fairly well. 

Tracey began to search for summer positions that Draco could manage with his tentative grasp on Muggle experience, and lack of job experience in general. It was difficult, but eventually they found an older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Evans, who owned a bookstore and small cafe and were looking for temporary help while their eldest daughter was recovering from an accident. They agreed to hire Draco and he worked there in the afternoons and evenings, when one of the owners was vising their daughter. 

After Draco had obtained a job, Tracey had stopped visiting Draco every day and they instead communicated via text message whenever Draco had a question. 

It was mid-July when the trouble-free routine ended, and the hellish summer began. 

He had gone for a jog in the nearby park that morning, taking in some fresh air and getting out of the flat, where he spent most of his time when he wasn’t at the bookstore. He was enjoying the quiet morning until, all at once, he wasn’t any longer. 

Likely, he was no longer enjoying the morning air because he was face down on the ground with a splitting headache. He knew right away that this wasn’t any sort of normal headache: it was too sudden and too intense to be anything but an injury- or magical-induced headache. 

Either he had some sort of brain tumor, or his Sight was screwing him over again. Draco would bet on the latter. 

He struggled to rise to his feet, but suddenly blacked out. 

When he came to, a small group of people hovered over him, speaking obnoxiously loudly and getting too close to him to be comfortable. The pain was gone, as abruptly as it had arrived. Luckily, no one had yet called an ambulance (he didn’t need the added expense) and he waved away their concern, stating that he was recovering from the flu. 

Draco went straight back to his flat, unlocked his trunk and removed its protective spells, and withdrew the Seer manuscript he had discovered inside the Chamber of Secrets at the end of the last school year. He had remembered reading something about headaches briefly…ah, there it was. 

_Seer’s First Rule: Control the Sight before it controls you._

When a Seer’s powers develop or increase in scope, visions are sometimes blocked temporarily because the Seer’s Sight is too undeveloped to comprehend the vision. If this takes place frequently enough, the Seer will begin to have painful headaches, which can be life-threatening if not dealt with. To resolve this issue, the vision block must be removed. Several methods of removal have been discovered, but all are dangerous. The first, a Potion, requires rare and expensive ingredients and can only be used if the Seer is of legal magical age and a legacy Pureblood (involving a connection to generations of family magic). Another method, meditative training, is effective but dangerous to the Seer, as it involves deep meditation (notes on page PVII) and immersion into the magical Sight. Such deep immersion can lead to horrific visions, mental stress, injury to the Seer, or even insanity. The last known method, and the most dangerous, is the _Immeo Recuso_ spell, which allows the caster to enter their own psyche and physically dismantle the Sight block. 

It is recommended that the Potion be attempted first, if the Seer meets the conditions. Although dangerous, deep meditation is less hazardous than the _Immeo Recuso_ spell and should be attempted next. If all other options fail, the _Immeo Recuso_ spell can be used. 

Draco skimmed the rest of the section, but found nothing else about the headaches. As he flipped to page PVII, he wondered why, rather than right after he had been “adopted,” he had begun to suffer the headaches weeks later. 

Having read the text, he asked for a week off from work. After Draco mentioned that he had collapsed in the park, the older couple readily reassured him that they would be fine for a week, urging him to take care of himself. That being taken care of, Draco gathered supplies for a week’s trip outside the city, knowing that seclusion would be necessary if he was fooling around with magic. He headed out to a isolated camping area early the next morning and made sure that there were no other campers nearby, taking time to enter deep meditation. 

He should have known better than to continue learning about his Sight slowly, content that the Seer items he had received from Kalistos would be adequate protection. 

He didn’t immediately notice anything was wrong when he awoke. An intense vision had come over him, longer than any of those he had experienced before. Upon awakening, however, he couldn’t remember anything but snatches of color and blurry faces. 

However, when he tried to sit up, his entire body was weak and stiff. An aura of magic lingered around his tent, and he found his body…changed. He had lost weight, his mouth was dry, and his voice came out in a rasp. 

Draco tried to gather his things, but his physical strength was depleted after a little bit of movement. A sudden, intense burst of thirst came upon him. Reaching into his pack, he greedily drank from the water bottles he had brought along, careful not to choke. Hunger pangs also shook his body, so he ate slowly so as not to get sick. 

He had turned his mobile phone off, hoping not to be disturbed, but he reached for it now, intending to call for help. He was unsure that he would be able to hike out, let alone take his gear along. 

As he held the power button and the screen switched on, Draco’s stomach felt as if it had dropped out of his body. He had come to the campsite at the end of June, intending to stay for a week. 

His mobile phone informed him that the date was August 24. It had been nearly two months since he had left London. 

To make matters worse, he had no idea what had occurred, or if he would continue to have debilitating headaches. 

He immediately entered his contacts menu in his mobile’s menu, thumbing down to Tracey’s number. Right before he pressed the call button, though, he hesitated. 

His mobile abruptly acquired service, allowing flood of voicemails and missed calls to pop up across his screen. Draco quickly tapped a few buttons and listened to the voicemails, frowning when he heard the concern in Tracey’s voice. The notion of his Slytherin housemates trying to get in contact with him was concerning, as well. 

Removing himself from the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, Draco carefully considered his situation. He wasn’t willing to contact Tracey after hearing her messages. If he were to call her and ask for help now, he couldn’t imagine her not finding out about his Sight. Despite his current situation, that was a risk he was unwilling to take. Too many people had been filled in on his worrying abilities already. 

So, he would focus on assuaging the concern of his housemates and Tracey later. His next task, then, was to find a way back to the flat in London when he was as weak as a kitten. 

Draco couldn’t dismiss his incredulity at the fact that he had been in some kind of vision-induced coma for two months and somehow was still alive. He hadn’t eaten or ingested water for two months, so how could he be relatively healthy? He was weak, but not entirely malnourished or all skin and bones. 

He’d had quite enough of the freaky side of magic already. It was beginning to get tiresome. 

Heaving himself to his feet, Draco decided he would just have to suck it up and stumble back to his flat as he was. He had two choices: use his half-depleted magic to heal himself, or use it to disguise his pallor and unsteady gait. As he wasn’t quite sure what ailed him and had always been piss-poor at healing spells, he chose the latter. 

It took most of the day for him to return to the flat. Nearly four hours passed before he made it to the campsite offices, which had originally been a thirty-minute hike. He caught a coach there and took it to the tube station, thankful to slump against a window and let his eyes drift closed. 

When he arrived in London, he hopped off the coach, entered the tube station, and took a short ride to the stop closest to the flat. 

The short walk seemed to take an eternity. As soon as he made it in the door, he collapsed on the floor, not even capable of taking the few extra steps to the sofa. Sliding his pack from his back, he removed his mobile and sent Tracey three quick texts. 

_Tracey, I’m fine. Relatively fine. Can’t send an Owl; tell Pansy not to send anything to the Aurors. That would completely fuck me over.  
I don’t know why they want me to stay away from Hogwarts, so I won’t take any action yet. I’ll be out of touch again. Don’t let Pansy do anything stupid.   
See you at Hogwarts.   
D.B._

Flipping the phone closed, Draco allowed his arm to drop to the ground and he closed his eyes, letting sleep overcome him.   
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  
Draco woke up the next day close to noon, having slept for just around fifteen hours. His first action was to stumble into the shower, discarding his grimy clothes and sighing with relief as he washed the grease and dirt from his typically immaculate hair. 

When he emerged, he glanced at his reflection and winced. He could see his ribs, and his cheekbones were even more prominent than his normal aristocratic look. Dark shadows under his eyes were very noticeable, and his hair had lost its distinctive luster. 

He looked like total shit. Pulling on some fresh clothes, he meandered to the kitchen and cooked a hearty lunch, taking his time getting it down. 

He was completely unsurprised when Tracey barged into the flat. So unsurprised, in fact, that he merely nodded in her direction and continued to savor his food. 

She gaped at him for a few moments, taking his gaunt and unhealthy-looking appearance, before sliding into a seat across from him, continuing to study him. “Well, you look like death warmed over.” She finally commented. 

Draco didn’t even crack a smile. “Don’t I know it.” His voice came out gravelly and deeper than normal. 

Tracey winced at the tone, as it sounded painful. “I came over to make sure you were okay, but you really don’t look it.” 

Draco sighed. “If you came here to ask what happened, there is nothing I can tell you. But I do have some questions for you. Any idea what Pansy was trying to tell me? I didn’t get any Owls, only the messages you left me. It was something about why I absolutely cannot return to Hogwarts?” He twirled his spoon in his yogurt, staring down at his plate with disinterest. 

Tracey frowned at his evasion. “She seemed concerned about this year’s Defense teacher. Apparently it’s some Ministry worker called Umbridge?” 

Draco went sheet-white and swayed on the stool he was perched on, nearly falling off. “Merde!” he swore, French coming out unconsciously in his agitation. “Fils de pute.”

Tracey barely spoke one word of French and she had been unaware that Draco did. She watched in fascination as he continued, words spewing forth as he jumped up and paced the kitchen. She could tell from his tone, however, that she probably didn’t want to know what it was that he was saying. She gave him some time to vent before clearing her throat. “Black, you do know you’re speaking in French, right?” 

His gaze whipped to her, anger alight in his eyes, before his brain processed her words. He winced at his lack of control and collapsed on the sofa in the living room, muttering to himself, “This is the summer from hell.” A bit louder, he told Tracey, “I am grateful that you came by to check on me, but I’ll have to ask you to leave now. Something very important just came up.” He grabbed his cell phone and keys and left the flat without a backwards glance, leaving it to Tracey to lock up. 

Draco went to Hogwarts immediately, using his unregistered wand to illegally Apparate right outside the grounds. He was so unnerved by the news that he was reacting more out of panic than from rational thought. 

Striding across the grounds in an adrenaline-fueled hurry, he entered the castle and went straight to Dumbledore’s office, banging impolitely on the door rather than attempting to guess the latest inane password. 

Dumbledore opened the door in a few moments, blinking in surprise to see Draco standing at his door. “Mr. Black, what brings you here? You seem distressed.” 

Draco barely resisted the urge to bare his teeth at the Headmaster, pushing past him into the office. “I need to withdraw from Hogwarts for the next term. Immediately.” He practically snarled.   
Dumbledore looked closely at his disheveled student, staring as if he could read his entire soul like a book. “Whatever has happened to disturb you, Mr. Black, I can assure you that Hogwarts is the safest place for you right now. Considering the events that occurred at the end of school last term, I cannot in good conscience allow you to leave Hogwarts. It isn’t safe.” 

Draco laughed, a wet sound that barely held back his absolute panic. “Your assurances mean nothing to me. You cannot stop me from withdrawing, nor is my safety your responsibility. Withdraw me. Now.” 

Dumbledore gave him a look of pity, which made Draco want to strangle the old codger. “I cannot stop you, no…but your legal guardian, Sirius Black, can. And I’m afraid that he will see things rather my way. There is one thing I can do for you, though.” Dumbledore reached into his desk drawer and withdraw an envelope. “As I was unaware of your summer address, I planned to send this with Charles on the train. Since you are here, however…I have decided that you will be one of Slytherin’s prefects. It will allow you some protection from your housemates.” 

Stricken into speechlessness, Draco’s entire posture slumped in his defeat. He would be hung by his own salvation, and strong-armed into cooperation against his will. And made a prefect on top of that? Great. Just great. “Va te faire foutre. Brûle en l’enfer!” his voice was angry and so very cold. He turned to leave, looked back over his shoulder, and promised with eyes full of loathing, “You will regret this decision.” The door slammed shut after him. 

It was all Draco could do to make it back to his flat without collapsing into a heap of misery. He was completely screwed, royally and utterly fucked.   
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  
One week later, Draco found himself wretchedly boarding the Hogwarts Express. He had gained back a little weight, but not enough to look healthy. His eating habits had never been all that vigorous, as he frequently forgot about meals and never had much of an appetite. 

His sleep had remained troubled, catching glimpses of the two-month long vision in his dreams. He was still unable to clearly recognize what the vision had been about, but he could definitely tell it wasn’t anything good. 

Stowing his trunk safely away, Draco entered an empty compartment and waited for his housemates. To his surprise, the first person to enter the alcove wasn’t Pansy or Blaise, but instead he looked up and met the intensely blue eyes of Charlie Weasley. 

The younger Pureblood couldn’t hold back a small smile as he took in Charlie’s face. Draco didn’t give a typical greeting. Instead, he remarked blandly, “Your hair is starting to look a little like Bill’s. Planning to let it grow out?” 

Charlie chuckled and shook his head, sliding into the seat across from Draco and leaning forward. “Hello to you too, Draco.” Charlie took in his haggard-looking face and weight loss with concern. “Are you feeling okay? You look exhausted.” His sharp eyes spotted the badge Draco clutched in his hand. “Prefect, eh?” He said nothing about Draco’s Muggle clothing, though it was hard to refrain from comments when the clothes suited Draco so well. 

Draco raised an eyebrow imperiously. “If that’s the polite way to say I look like shit, then you’re absolutely right. Look, it’s been a hell of a summer and I really don’t want to get into it right now.” He leaned in closer in case anyone was attempting to eavesdrop. “Seer stuff.” He muttered, _sotto voce_. It was such a relief to be around someone who knew about some of the things Draco had to deal with. “As for the prefect thing…” he made a face. “I would rather do without.” 

“Got it. You can fill me in later. I’m glad you’re relatively okay, though. We were worried after the whole “becoming-a-Black” thing.” Charlie leaned back. A comfortable silence fell over the compartment, before the Dragon Keeper laughed to himself. Draco gave him a quizzical look. 

Charlie grinned at him. “I was thinking about stuff this summer, about the things you told me when we first met. I was really curious about something. You said that you see people’s Voices, and they come out as a certain color. I never asked you…what color is my voice?” 

Draco blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. “It’s…red. A rare color. Yours is the only one I’ve seen.” He said finally, a bemused expression crossing his face briefly.   
Charlie couldn’t stop the smile. Everyone liked to hear they were special, after all. “Red, hm? And what does that tell you about me?” 

Draco’s silverite eyes met Charlie’s blue eyes steadily. “Voice colors have a lot to do with whatever the color is associated with. In your case, red is the color of blood and fire. Blood evokes themes of sacrifice, danger, anger, strength, and other things along those lines. Fire has more to do with love, desire, courage, confidence, vigor, and determination. Just based on the color of your Voice, I would say that you are a passionate person who has good discernment and isn’t afraid of taking risks. You know what you want and you go for it.” 

Charlie listened intently and cracked a grin. “Well, it’s certainly more accurate than anything I heard in Divination.” He joked. “On a more serious note, though, I’m happy you think so highly of me. Thanks for sharing.” He patted Draco’s knee. 

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. “I mostly gave you the positive side.” He warned with a smirk. “But you’re welcome, I suppose.” 

Charlie tilted his head, appraising Draco for a moment. “What about your Voice? Can you psychoanalyze yourself like that?” 

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but the compartment door slid open before he had the chance. Pansy, Blaise, and Greg stepped inside, blinking in surprise when they saw Charlie. The redheaded Weasley noticed his hand was still on Draco’s knee and pulled it back as if burned. 

Pansy didn’t stare for long, though, before she dropped onto the bench beside Draco, nearly on top of him. She did give him a knowing smirk, though. “I have half a mind to strangle you, Draco. You shouldn’t be here! Not to mention causing us so much worry.” She reached up, ignoring his flinch at her proximity, and grasped his face, turning it in her hands. “You look as if you were living on the run for months.” She took in his clothes, a plain black tee, jeans, and Converse. “The Muggle clothes are surprisingly a good look for you, though. Leather is smashing with your coloring.” 

Draco shoved her away, not in the mood for an invasion of personal space. “I’ll fill you in later, when we’re not surrounded by the entire Hogwarts population.” His eyes shifted to his other friends. “Blaise, good to see you.” 

His Italian friend grinned back at him and exchanged greetings with Charlie as well. “Greg and Theo say hi. They can’t exactly be seen hanging around you now, though.” Blaise explained. The group chatted amiably for a few minutes about their summers, though Draco remained mostly silent. After Charlie left the compartment for a meeting with the other Professors, Draco finally spoke up a little more. “Thank you for trying to warn me, but it would have been impossible to leave even if I had known earlier.” He grimaced. “Sirius is technically my guardian now, and he went along with Dumbledore’s ‘well-meaning’ intentions and refused to let me withdraw. Despite my best efforts, I am stuck at Hogwarts indefinitely.” 

Blaise hated to be the bearer of bad news, but it was better to come out and say it than prolong the agony. “Look, Draco, that’s not even the worst part. Yes, Umbridge is our Professor and she hates you enough to tear out your throat, but…she also brought him along.” 

Draco bolted upright, eyes wide. “Henry is here?” he gasped. 

Blaise sighed. “I saw him getting on the train, Draco. I suppose Umbridge decided that since your dad was no longer interested in what happened to you, it was safe to bring him back. Hogwarts is the best wizarding school, after all. Logically it makes sense. It is his last year.” 

Draco realized he was still standing and sunk back to the bench, not bothering to remain in the proper posture. “I don’t know whether to be upset or relieved about that. I suppose it depends on how much he hates me.” His eyes flashed with a deep-seated pain and he promptly lowered his gaze, avoiding his friends’ eyes. 

Pansy stood up, smoothing down her robes. “I suppose we will figure that out. Draco, you’d better put your robes on. We should probably be going to the prefect meeting.” 

Draco followed her advice and reluctantly pinned the shiny badge to his robes. As they left the compartment, Draco turned to Blaise and handed him the leather jacket. “Hold on to this. Also, could you go find Luna? I would like to make sure she’s okay. It’s surprising that she didn’t stop by.” 

Blaise chuckled. “I’ll check on her. Have fun, you two.”

As they walked down the halls, Pansy ribbed Draco teasingly. “So, Charlie’s back for another year. You two have a nice private conversation? It seemed like we were interrupting when we came in back there.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “That was pretty poor timing.” He said simply. A door in front of them opened, and Granger and Weasley stepped out. Draco was actually rather relieved to see that Potter wasn’t the Gryffindor prefect. He hadn’t read the letter Dumbledore had given him, so he didn’t know who the other Prefects were.

“Parkinson.” There was just enough of an awkward pause that Draco knew Malfoy had been attempted and of course it was impossible to say now when referring to Draco. “Black.” Weasley tried to recover, but anyone with half a brain would notice what had just happened. Draco ignored the purple color coming from Ron’s lips. 

“That’s bloody weird even to me.” Draco sighed, pushing past the two. Pansy quickly followed him. The two Gryffindor prefects gracelessly trailed after them, eerily silent because of the stifling atmosphere. Due to the events that took place at the end of the last school year, none of them were quite sure how to act around their former enemies. 

Too quietly for the Slytherins to hear, Ron muttered, “Great. He’s in one of those moods again.” Hermione shot him a grim look in response, nodding. Draco was rather infamous in Hogwarts for being a spoiled brat, but even more so for the dark moods he would sink into rather frequently. Usually once or twice every school year, the mood would occur and everyone would know to steer clear of Draco. If antagonized during one of the moods, things would get ugly. Ninety nine percent of the time, the Professors couldn’t prove Draco was involved. But everyone knew. 

Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape were waiting for the prefects: Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan, Anthony Goldstein, and Padma Patil were already seated in the small room.   
Draco didn’t listen very closely as the professors droned on about the responsibilities of a prefect: he knew very well how things worked, and his mind was more focused on the knowledge that Umbridge was a new professor and Henry a new student. 

Henry Selwyn had once been his best friend and the closest thing he had to a brother. Draco would have done practically anything for Henry; he’d idolized the older boy, admittedly to the extent of a puppy love-type crush. 

Draco had assumed Henry considered him at least like an annoying little brother, if not a best friend. When things had gone so catastrophically wrong, he had been crushed that Henry was so quick to blame him and disappear from his life. 

Some part of Draco masochistically held himself responsible for what had happened, even though he knew logically that it had in no way been his fault. The blame for that incident could be placed squarely on the shoulders of Lucius Malfoy, but Draco was too naïve to see it for many years. He could look back now and understand that it wasn’t his fault, but the guilt was still present and he couldn’t quite shake it. 

Now, he was unsure what kind of reception he would receive from his once friend. Did Henry still hate him? Or was there some possibility that they could rekindle their old friendship? That uncertainty was eating Draco alive, and he wasn’t quite sure which option he preferred. 

He was also worried about the headaches, and if he was in the clear now. Even worse, the little bits of the vision he couldn’t remember slipped through his dreams as if taunting him. Draco knew that the vision was of immense importance, and it was insanely frustrating to be unable to recall it. 

On top of those things, he certainly hadn’t expected the hero worship following him as he had walked through the train. It was disconcerting, being the media’s darling. In fact, it was dangerous. Because no one knew quite how Draco and his merry band had managed to find out about the Triwizard Cup being a Portkey, both sides were suspicious and wary. If he didn’t play his cards carefully, he would be caught in the middle and both groups would see him as their enemy. Draco had to hope that no one would consider Seer abilities to be the source of his knowledge, because he would be in very real danger of losing his life if someone were to find out. 

Because of the combination of these things, Draco felt as if everything was spinning hopelessly out of control. Practically nothing had gone according to plan during the Triwizard Tournament, and he was paying the price for poor planning now, it seemed. 

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a jab in the ribs from Pansy, who gave him a pay attention look. Draco looked up to see most of the room’s occupants staring at him, seemingly waiting for a response. Pansy discretely tapped his leg once, and he would have to thank her for that later because now he knew what to say. “Yes, of course. I didn’t realize you required verbal affirmation.” His words came out in a sarcastic drawl and he smirked. 

The Heads of House didn’t seem too happy about his lack of attention, but they let it drop. Draco heaved his attention back to the present, unwilling to let that happen again. “What did I just agree to?” he hissed nearly silently to Pansy. 

She rolled her eyes. “We’re taking the last patrols every evening during the first week. Figured you wouldn’t mind, what with being an insomniac and all.” 

Draco was about to reply but fell silent, noticing that not everyone in the compartment was paying attention to the professors. One Hermione Granger was watching Draco and Pansy intently, eyes shrewd. “Later,” he muttered to Pansy, not too keen on having any sort of serious discussion with a witness. 

After a few more minutes the Prefect’s meeting drew to a close. Draco quickly got to his feet and headed toward the door, but he was cornered before he was able to escape. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Hermione, but Padma who approached Draco. The professors left the compartment without backward glances, but the other Prefects stayed, clearly curious about what was going on. Padma was cautious, as if Draco would attack her any moment. “You know, a lot of people are curious. Rumors have been flying everywhere, but no one really knows the truth. Is the Daily Prophet right? Did you really fight You-Know-Who?” he forcefully pulled his eyes away from staring at her lips, where a mottled green and pink cloud escaped. Huh. That was a new mix. Not very attractive…

Draco glanced around the room uneasily, finding curiosity in every face and little else. “No to the first, yes to the second.” He shot back with grim humor. “Not that it’s any of your business. Get out of my way.” He plucked Padma’s sleeve, unwilling to touch her, and moved her aside. Without a backward glance he exited the compartment, trying to ignore Granger’s eyes boring into his back. 

Pansy followed him. “You owe me one with that save back there, handsome.” She joked. 

Draco snorted. “Just because Viktor is gone doesn’t mean you’re a free woman. He’d be disappointed if you decided to dump him, you know.” 

Pansy chuckled. “If you were actually interested, or ever would be, I would hardly have propositioned Viktor.” She gave him an odd look. “You know, one of these days you should actually tell me about why you’re so opposed to it. I would guess you are asexual, but you have a surprising knowledge about sex-related things that would be impossible to know without indulging, so that can’t be it. Am I just not your type? Or are you gay?” 

Draco gave her an incredulous look. “None of the above. Damn, Pansy, you’re bringing this up now? You want an award for worst timing ever or something?” 

Pansy grinned at him. “It’s not so out of the blue when you and Charlie kept getting caught doing intimate things, is it? Can’t blame a girl for being curious. You two are hot. I’m so getting an answer about this later, but for now you’re right. It isn’t the time.” She glanced around, noticing that they were nowhere near their previous compartment. “Where are we going, anyways?” 

Draco responded tersely, “I told Blaise to find Luna, remember? They’re not going to be in the compartment we left. Should be around here.” They glanced into a few compartments as they passed before finding the right one. 

The two Slytherin Prefects raised their eyebrows at the motley crew inside. Luna, Ginny, Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter, and Blaise. Odd bunch to see together, certainly. Draco pushed open the door and stepped inside. Longbottom watched him warily, but the rest seemed fairly happy about his arrival. He took the farthest seat possible from Longbottom, just to put the kid at ease. Draco wouldn’t be apologizing for his past actions, but he certainly didn’t have to continue to be a git.

Before they had entered the room, Luna sat on the bench with Blaise and the three Gryffindors on the other. Now, Pansy cautiously took a seat beside Blaise, and Draco stayed near the door, beside Luna.   
Luna immediately began chattering about her summer and some creature-hunting expedition she had gone on with her father. Granger and Ron Weasley opened the compartment after a few moments, and there was an awkward pause when they realized the compartment was too full for them to sit. Hermione watched Draco, seeming surprised to see him settled comfortably next to Luna. Draco knew that Hermione didn’t much like Luna, finding her too whimsical and illogical. 

When he saw Granger open her mouth to begin firing off questions, Draco muttered quietly, “I’m not answering any of your questions, so don’t bother asking.” 

She regarded him seriously. “I’m not going to give up. It’s important that I know what happened. You-Know-Who is after Harry, you know.” Eventually the four Gryffindors from Draco’s year decided to find a new compartment, not wanting to crowd everyone. Ron looked surprised when Ginny opted to stay, but didn’t protest. Pansy, happy to have more room, moved to Ginny’s side. The benches were really only meant to hold three people, after all. With Pansy, Blaise, Luna, and Draco all on one side, things had been very cramped. 

Luna continued her story after most of the Gryffindors left. Luna’s voice was an interesting color, pink and yellow swirled together to create a light orangey hue that was fairly unique. Draco half-listened, watching the colors drift in the air absently. Perhaps it was the disturbing visions and the whole two-month-coma incident, but he sometimes wished he could go back to a time when his Sight was simple. When he had only been seeing Voices in color, things had been innocent, fun. Finding out what the colors meant was an adventure, a treasure hunt. Now, he found himself desiring that simplicity.   
Draco remained very quiet throughout the rest of the train ride, only speaking when spoken to. He knew the train ride was his last chance at normalcy for a while. As soon as Dolores Umbridge spotted him, all semblance of peace would be over. 

Last term hadn’t been particularly easy for Draco. His Sight had gone haywire, his place in Slytherin House became shaky, and the pressure his family put upon him had been unbelievable. Unsurprisingly, the term had ended with Draco hospitalized and disowned. 

The uneasy feeling in Draco’s gut told him that this term might be much worse. Trying to pull himself from the negative thoughts, he absently wondered what Charlie would be like as a Professor. Certainly, he would have a difficult time with some of the Slytherins, who looked down their noses at his family and regarded him as a blood traitor. At least he, unlike his siblings, had the protection of being an authority figure. 

Feeling a light touch on his forearm, Draco looked up at Luna, who was regarding him with an odd expression. The others in the compartment were engaged in a lively discussion about O.W.L.’s. In a quiet, solemn voice, Luna told Draco “Your aura is a bit cloudy. It would be good for you to remember that facing your past makes you stronger. In a year, you will be surprised at how much you’ve grown.”  
Draco’s eyes flared silver in the sunlight as he regarded the younger Ravenclaw. “I suppose it would have caught up with me sooner or later. Best to face it here, with a few rules protecting me, than elsewhere.” His lips twisted wryly. 

Making an effort to join in the conversation and not wanting to worry his friends, Draco turned to Ginny. “So, how do you feel about your brother being Hagrid’s replacement?” he questioned with a smirk.   
Ginny snorted. “My brothers are already all over Hogwarts. One more won’t make a difference.” She responded dryly, her bright blue voice catching Draco’s attention. “At least Charlie doesn’t stick his nose in my business like Ron does. As if Ron has a right to know about my love life…” She muttered the last sentence, but Draco’s sharp ears caught it, and he was certain Pansy, who was sitting beside Ginny, heard also. 

Pansy, indeed, had heard and wouldn’t be letting an opportunity like that pass by. “Your love life? Ooh, spill. I’m surrounded by snobby boys who think they’re too good for love.” 

A light shade of pink dusted Ginny’s cheeks. “Ugh, seriously. I may have a thing with Dean Thomas, that’s all. Besides, from what I hear, Draco’s the one with the interesting love life.” She met Draco’s amused eyes challengingly. 

Luna smiled whimsically. “You do have a strong connection with Charles.” She agreed. 

Pansy and Blaise couldn’t hold back their identical grins. “Good luck trying to get the icicle out of his ass.” Blaise quipped. “Draco’s so frigid we’ve all pegged him for asexual.” 

Draco quirked an eyebrow. “Must you be so crude?” he remarked, not deigning to respond to the rest of Blaise’s words. 

Pansy shrugged. “There is something there with him and Charlie, though, or at least there could be. Don’t you think so, Ginny?” 

The redhead squinted, as if trying to see Draco’s soul by looking at him. “There is quite an age gap, but Draco does have that ‘old soul’ feeling. Charlie usually fancies danger and excitement, but he’s never dated a man. I would probably guess he’s pansexual, though.” Ginny paused, tilting her head. “In the distant future, it’s certainly a possibility. Once Draco’s of age.” 

Pansy pouted. “Boo. No hot student-teacher action?” she joked. 

Blaise groaned. “Merlin, my ears!” he groaned. “I did not need to know you had weird fantasies about our professors! That’s bloody disgusting.” 

Draco shook his head. “This conversation took a turn from weird to weirder. I blame you.” He told Ginny. 

Luna smiled dreamily. “Who would match Neville well as a couple?” she asked out of the blue.

The other four swiveled their heads to look at her in surprise. Ginny laughed at the abrupt subject change. “Well, he tends to go for the girl-next-door type, but I honestly think he would be better off with someone who challenged him a bit more. He tends to fade into the background with a bland nice girl like that.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I’ve always wondered a bit how he would be dating a guy.” 

Pansy sputtered. “Longbottom? I can’t see it at all. Well, the gay part I can see, maybe. The actually admitting it, not so much. He’ll probably end up with the stereotypical good-girl wife and an office job.” 

Luna frowned. “He’s awkward and shy now, but he won’t be forever.” Her eyes slid to Draco. “Sometimes it takes boys a little longer to grow up.” 

Draco’s eyebrows shot up, but before he could defend himself Ginny responded. “Who in Hogwarts even is gay, anyway? Any guesses?” 

Pansy jumped right on that. “One hundred percent, Cedric Diggory.” 

Ginny’s mouth dropped open. “No way! Really? I would have never guessed. I thought he and Cho had a thing?” 

Blaise and Draco exchanged commiserating looks as the conversation continued. Pansy was saying, “I have no proof, but I just know. He definitely is, Ginny. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was interested in Draco. Did you know he offered to be his personal counselor?” 

Draco dropped his hands to the bench loudly. “Okay, that’s enough! Leave me out of this. Half of the people in this school have a thing for me, and I’m bloody tired of hearing about it. Merde.”   
Luna patted his knee consolingly. “That’s fine. Did you know Professor Trelawney decided to take a sabbatical this term?” 

A strange, wistful smile crossed Draco’s lips for a tenth of a moment. “No, I hadn’t heard that. I’m glad that the Headmaster took my advice, though.” 

Ginny frowned. “You advised him to fire the Divination Professor and he actually listened? I thought you and Dumbledore didn’t see eye to eye.” 

Draco snorted. “That’s because we don’t. And I didn’t get her fired, I kept her from being fired.” His gaze sharpened. “I know of the new DADA professor. She will do her best to get rid of anyone who has a weakness. It’s why Hagrid took leave, too. She hates non-humans and Dumbledore, and as Dumbledore’s supporter, Professor Trelawney would just be an easy target.” Despite his opinion of the woman as a teacher, she didn’t deserve to be bullied by Umbridge. No one did.

Blaise agreed. “You know, the hag will probably like Charlie though. He’s lucky, because she already likes your brother Percy. Guess being a Ministry peon helps with something.”

Ginny’s lips pressed into a line at the mention of her semi-excommunicated brother, but she said nothing other than, “I suppose so.” She turned to Draco. “I’m curious about something, though. Sometimes you swear in French. Why is that?” 

Draco snorted. “Sans blague.” At the blank looks, he sighed. “No kidding? That’s because I am French.” Pushing back some hair that was tickling his jaw, Draco reminded himself to get a haircut soon. He was tired of seeing himself look so similar to Lucius Malfoy. 

Ginny snorted at that. Draco cocked an eyebrow at her. “Is that amusing somehow?” he questioned. 

She grinned. “Not being French, so much as the mental image of you wearing a beret.” 

Blaise and Pansy both chortled at that. “Oh, you’re so right. It’s somehow very entertaining!” Pansy chuckled. 

Luna frowned. “I think you’d look dashing in a beret, Dragon.” She said seriously. 

Draco privately thought that anyone who took fashion advice from Luna was in trouble. “Thanks Luna. The rest of you, you’re ridiculous.” 

While the rest of the group recovered from their hysterics, Luna tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I think I finally figured it out. You’re a Slytherclaw, Draco.” 

The blonde Pureblood gave her a dubious look. Blaise straightened on the bench with a start. “You’re onto something, Lovegood. No wonder Drake’s so fucking terrifying!” he ignored Draco’s muttered ‘don’t call me that,’ and continued, “We always talked about people who could’ve gone to more than one house. Like Granger, she’s totally a Gryffinclaw. A lot of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors could go either way. As for Ravenclaw and Slytherin, cunning and intelligence together is kinda frightening, like a supervillain.”

Ginny looked intrigued. “I’ve never heard anyone in Gryffindor talk about this before, but I can see what you mean. Luna, you’re totally a Ravenpuff.” 

Luna blinked happily. “I thought so too.” She agreed. “I think Harry Potter is a Gryffinpuff.” 

Pansy agreed. “He’s a total sap, so that fits. Certainly can’t imagine him giving in to the urge for a good backstab. More’s the pity.” She winked at Ginny, who laughed. Draco began to get the feeling that he should be a little uneasy around the two should they become co-conspirators. He was getting dangerous vibes from the duo. Considering the invasive way they had been discussing his personal life, perhaps he should give them as little ammunition as possible. 

Just then, Draco happened to glance up, and he stiffened in his seat. “I’ll be back later.” He abruptly stood and exited the compartment, silver eyes locked on the brilliantly green stare meeting his own. As he slid the door shut, he vaguely heard Blaise’s exclaimed, “Oh, shit.” 

A superior smirk. Cold, emerald eyes vivid with color, and chocolate-colored locks styled to perfection. The familiar talisman hung in its normal place over a broad chest. Immaculate robes, tailored and luxurious, covered tanned skin. “Hello, Drake.” The voice was velvety smooth, but there was a darker undertone that was disconcerting.

It had been years since he had laid eyes on his childhood friend, but Draco recognized Henry Selwyn in an instant.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap:   
> _  
> A superior smirk. Cold, emerald eyes vivid with colour, and short, chocolate-coloured locks styled to perfection. The familiar talisman hung in its normal place over a broad chest. Immaculate robes, tailored and luxurious, covered tanned skin. “Hello, Drake.” The voice was velvety smooth, but there was a darker undertone that was disconcerting._
> 
> _It had been years since he had laid eyes on his childhood friend, but Draco recognized Henry Selwyn in an instant._

A sort of stunned silence pervaded the air for a moment before the silky voice spoke again. “Speechless, are we? Well, you always were timid. I can’t say I’m surprised that you want to avoid me, or to pretend you didn’t betray me.” Henry Selwyn was many things. A charmer, always. A bit of an arse, sometimes. Tactful, rarely. And that final trait was particularly lacking today. 

The stunned look faded from Draco’s eyes, replaced by a solemn, blank face. Henry stepped closer into his personal space, a clear intimidation tactic. “You grew up pretty, Drake. Not that it matters, since we both know you’re spineless. No amount of pretty can make up for that.” 

Draco was tempted to roll his eyes, but thanks to the lame speech he was finally able to regain his composure. “Henry.” He greeted curtly. “Despite events of the past, it is good to see you.” 

Henry gave him an incredulous look. “I can’t quite say the same.” 

Draco sighed. “If you’d ever stopped to think about things, you would have realized that everything that happened was all according to Father’s plan. Without you around, his control over me was heightened.” 

Henry arched an aristocratic eyebrow. “Father? Not these days, from what I hear. It seems he finally realized how weak you are. Always so emotional, that was the problem. But don’t worry, I know your ‘betrayal’ was all orchestrated by Lucius Malfoy. After all, you were hardly smart enough to come with such a convoluted plot all by your lonesome.” 

Draco’s lips tightened. “Why did you seek me out? You must know it is pointless to antagonize me like this. It would be to our mutual benefit to avoid each other. Unless there is something you want from me in order to repay debts of the past, it would cause less friction to go our separate ways.” His speech was increasingly formal the more he spoke, trying to put barriers between them with words. 

A malicious look filled Henry’s emerald eyes. “I would hardly let you off that easy. I’m going to make your life a living hell, Drake, a replica of mine all those years ago. I’m going to stand to the side and smile while you lose everything just like I did. And then maybe, just maybe, I’ll pull you back from the brink of despair…like you never did for me.” Two sets of eyes focused on Henry’s covered right hand, the hand Draco knew was mangled and deformed because of Lucius Malfoy. “When you want it to stop, all you have to do is tell me you made a mistake. Tell me that you abandoned me once, but never again.” A scorching hot hand touched Draco’s neck gently, caressingly. “But until then…I will enjoy watching you suffer.” With an uncomfortable squeeze, the hand dropped away and Henry disappeared down the corridor, leaving Draco silent and mildly shaken. 

Distractedly, Draco turned to re-enter the compartment, but not before a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks. 

“Draco, I heard everything.” Cedric Diggory emerged from the shadows, his grey eyes serious. “That definitely sounded like he was threatening you. Are you all right?” Cedric’s sharp eyes took in the fine tremors running through Draco hands, his underweight state, and the dark circles under his eyes. “You look like you had a rough summer.” He covertly stepped between Draco and the compartment door. 

Draco gave him a wary glance. “No offense, Diggory, but we aren’t really close enough to be talking about anything this personal.”

A humorous smile darted across Cedric’s face. “See, I might actually believe that if I thought you talked about something ‘this personal’ with anyone.” He took a step closer to Draco; whose posture and expression were purely defensive. “Who was that student? I haven’t seen him before, but he seemed to know you awfully well.”

Draco’s eyes resembled fog, or a cloudy sky. He stared past Cedric’s shoulder, grim smile fixed upon his lips. “His family and mine were once acquaintances, until we had a falling out.” He responded tightly. “Excuse me.” He attempted to brush past Cedric without a backward glance. 

Cedric stopped him with a tight grip on one wrist, catching his arm as he was trying to pass. Draco could hear Cedric sigh beside him, clearly disappointed at how Draco had clammed up. With Diggory blocking the compartment, Draco wanted to dart down the corridor, no destination in mind other than away. Likely, the older boy meant well. He was a Hufflepuff after all. But Draco knew that good intentions did not always guarantee desirable outcomes. Realizing that Cedric was determined to talk, he turned, scowling, to face the older boy. “What is it?” he barked impatiently. 

Cedric peered at his face, taking in his haggard appearance. “Draco, I’m just concerned. You quite probably saved my life during the Tournament, please let me help you in return. You can trust me to keep anything between the two of us. Healer-patient confidentiality.” He winked. 

Draco narrowed his eyes, unconsciously displaying his discomfort. “You’re not a Healer, so that’s not trustworthy.” He pulled his wrist free from Cedric’s grasp and stared the older Hufflepuff down. 

Undeterred, Cedric met his gaze, grey eyes on grey. “You saved my life. I think I owe you a little more than confidentiality, Draco.” He gave Draco a gentle smile. “You’re kinda paranoid, aren’t you? Is that a Slytherin thing?” 

Draco frowned. He wasn’t sure how to deal with this. “What can I say that will get you to leave me alone?” he finally responded. 

Cedric chuckled. He was learning more from Draco’s body language throughout this conversation than his words. “Straight to the point. I can deal with that. Okay, tell me about your ‘acquaintance,’ the one who was threatening you. Then I’ll let you off the hook…for now.” The older Hufflepuff carefully watched Draco, trying to read the Slytherin. Cedric and Draco had not really interacted much in the past, until the events of the Triwizard Tournament had caused their paths to cross. So far throughout their acquaintance, everything Cedric had observed from Draco’s actions was in stark contrast to the things he had heard about Draco from other Hogwarts students. While the former Malfoy certainly could be cold and a touch arrogant, Cedric was beginning to see that the public’s perception of Draco was very different from the person Draco was in actuality. 

Glancing about to ensure there weren’t any eavesdroppers, Draco pursed his lips. “Henry was a childhood friend. My fa—Lucius wronged him and he blames me. Apparently, he swore revenge on me or something equally melodramatic.” 

Cedric made a curious sound. Pursing of the lips could mean multiple things, but in this case, he suspected it meant Draco was withholding information. “Okay, that’s a start. You seemed like more than casual acquaintances by your body language around each other, although there was definitely tension there.” He was careful to show his palms and keep his voice even, trying to show his willingness to help with his whole body. “Were you close in the past?” 

Draco stiffened, not very pleased with the impromptu interrogation. “Once.” He responded tersely. “This conversation is over. Get the fuck out of my way.” 

Realizing he may have pushed too far, Cedric quickly backtracked. “Okay, I only wanted to help. Please let me know if he does anything you can’t handle, or if you just need someone to talk to.” 

Draco laughed bitterly. “He’s the least of my problems.” Shoving Cedric to the side, Draco re-entered the compartment, a stormy expression taking over his face. 

To their credit, Pansy and Blaise didn’t immediately jump upon Draco with questions, seeing something in his face that made them decide to approach with caution. As Draco settled back onto the bench, and awkward silence permeated the room. Surprisingly, it was Ginny who broke the quiet. “It’s time to put our robes on.” She stated blandly, standing to pull her black robes on. 

The others followed her lead, though Draco and Pansy had already put on their robes for the Prefect meeting. As the others were mildly distracted, Pansy nudged Draco and leaned in close. “You have to calm down. You can’t properly deal with Umbridge like this.” 

Draco gave her a terse nod, but no verbal response. A nerve ticked in his jaw and he clenched his teeth, trying to wrestle his impatience into submission through sheer willpower. He stretched his hand out to Blaise, who returned his Muggle jacket wordlessly. 

The train came to a slow stop, and students began to gather their things and line up to exit the cars. Draco idly grabbed the few small items he had stashed in the compartment, as his trunk was already shrunken, feather-light charmed, and tucked away in his robes. As they were exiting the car, Luna grasped Draco’s shoulder gently and pulled him to the side. Sotto voce, she told him, “Please, be cautious this week. The Wrackspurts are gathering all around you, I’ve never seen so many beside one person before. Well, except Professor Dumbledore.” With a wane smile, she darted out to catch up with Ginny, leaving Draco with his thoughts. 

There was a heavy weight in the centre of Draco’s chest. Whether that was because of Luna’s words, because of the stress his body was still recovering from, or because of the bad feeling he’d had about this term all along, not even Draco could say for certain. 

He jumped down from the train car and joined Blaise and Pansy, who were waving him to their carriage. After settling himself on the bench, Draco looked up to meet the sky-blue eyes of Charlie, and his expression turned to one of pleasant surprise. 

When Draco gave him a small smile but said nothing, Charlie could tell something was amiss. Simply put, there was just something off about the clench of Draco’s jaw, or the blankness in his eyes.

Concern swept over Charlie, and he cleared his throat. “Draco? Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Draco snorted. “Define okay.” He responded bluntly. “I’ll live. It’s been a rough summer.” 

Pansy, bless her, occupied Blaise’s attention with loud chatter, allowing Charlie to speak quietly to Draco without being overheard. “What exactly happened? You seem…tense.” 

A humourless smile twisted Draco’s lips. Where even to begin… “I spent the summer in Muggle London. Paid rent, had a job, even. Things weren’t the greatest, but I was doing okay. Ever since the Tournament, though, something with my Sight has been wonky. I’ve been getting these headaches, migraines, really. I can never remember what I dream about, but I know it’s nothing good. I was trying to go into deep meditation, figure out what was going on. When I came up for air, I had been meditating for two months.” Draco’s eyes slipped closed as he gathered his composure. “I could barely make it home; my body was so weak. I should be dead, by all rights. Even worse, the meditation didn’t even help. The headaches have only gotten worse, Char.” 

Their eyes met for several moments, Charlie absorbing the full impact of Draco’s words. “Have you gone to a Healer?” 

Draco pursed his lips. “I’d rather deal with the worst headache in the world than tell a Healer about my Sight. And if they were to help me, I would have to do that. I was in perfect health otherwise. It can only be a magic issue, and any magic issue would have to be connected in some way to my abilities. No, Charlie, that’s not an option. There’s not one Healer I can trust. I’d be a lab experiment before I could protest.” Images from that terrible vision he’d had last year slipped through his mind, causing him to shudder. “No, that’s not happening. I’ll figure this out myself, or not at all.” 

Charlie sighed. “Well, at least I can appreciate your honesty. I’m glad you told me you’re struggling, even if I can’t provide any help. But Draco, I hope you know that letting your Sight kill you off isn’t an option, either.”

Pansy chose that moment to turn back into the conversation between the two. “Do you know anything about Professor Umbridge, Charlie?” 

Perplexed by the change in subject, Charlie blinked, his voice betraying his surprise. “I know that she has worked with my brother Percy in the Ministry. She’s Undersecretary to the Minister, or some such position. I think she has quite a bit of influence, but Percy never seemed to like her much.” 

Draco’s eyes slid to Charlie, indicating his interest in this conversation. “Percy is the brother the rest of you Weasleys never talk about, yes? The one that graduated a few years back?” 

Charlie sighed. “Yes, Percy and my family don’t exactly get along. They had a major fight when Percy chose to support the Ministry. He thinks Dumbledore isn’t trustworthy, warned us that we would go down with Dumbledore when the Headmaster ultimately slips up. As you can imagine, my parents certainly didn’t react too well to that.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees pensively. “My family, with the exception of Bill, Ginny, and I, is entirely too hot-headed. It was such a petty argument in the long-term, just ideological differences. Now all my younger brothers act as if he never existed.” 

Pansy was about to make a joke about family drama, but thankfully Blaise elbowed her in the side. “That’s rough, man. Family can be trying sometimes.” The dark-skinned Italian sympathized. 

Charlie snorted, half amused and half resigned. “There’s certainly truth to that.” He agreed. “Anyways, I’ve always gotten along with Percy perfectly. He’s a little too cynical and ambitious for the rest of my family to handle. Probably would have done well in Slytherin, actually. That being said, I trust his judgment when he’s not being an offended prick. If he doesn’t like Umbridge, I would be worried. He is quite the judge of character; he can usually see trouble coming from kilometres away.” 

Pansy grins widely. “That explains why he never liked Potter.” She chortled. “You’re right, though. Umbridge is a total megalomaniac and she abhors Draco. Hopefully, since she has a smooth relationship with Percy, she will like you and you can intercede when possible.” 

“Pansy, shut it.” Draco hissed, annoyed at his friend for spilling the beans. 

Charlie raised an eyebrow at Draco. “So, obviously you weren’t planning on telling me that. Any reason why someone in the Ministry hates you so much? It can’t be because of your father, considering how much money he bribes them with.” 

Draco’s voice bubbled with frustration. “What is it with you people wanting to do the sharing and caring thing today?” he muttered, temper fraying short. “I’d rather not talk about it. It’s been drug up enough times already today. I will handle my own affairs. You’ll have enough on your plate, dealing with students.” 

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Is that so.” He smiled, but the smile was cutting rather than happy. “Draco, you do realize that I am at Hogwarts almost exclusively to help you with your affairs. The fact that you’re hiding things from me is, frankly, insulting. Considering I put my career on hold to remain here and deal with snot-nosed brats,” The ‘like yourself’ was excluded verbally but certainly implied, “the least you could do is be upfront with me.” 

Draco didn’t miss the insinuation, and he winced. Rather than apologize, he grudgingly explained, “Umbridge is purportedly related to my childhood friend, Henry Selwyn. Considering that Lucius screwed him over and our families had a falling out that Henry assumed was my fault, Umbridge is chilly toward the Malfoys and frigid toward me. We ran into each other at the Ministry once and I was fairly certain she was going to attack me in the middle of the corridor. Likely, the only reason she refrained was because there were Aurors right around the corner.” 

Blaise cleared his throat. “That’s the basics, sure. But what Draco failed to mention is that Henry is attending Hogwarts this semester. Also, Umbridge, being in a position of authority, will definitely ensure that Draco is suitably punished to both of their satisfactions. Everyone knows that the Selwyn family has a sadistic streak. You can’t be so nonchalant about this, Draco. You’re in serious danger.” 

Draco wanted to scoff, but knowing it would come across as childish, restrained himself. 

Charlie leaned into Draco’s space. “I can’t quite tell if you’re extremely prideful or if you’re just an arrogant bastard who thinks he can handle everything alone. Either way, you’re not nearly as clever as you think you are. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and handle everything alone after last term.” 

Pansy’s eyebrows shot up, and Blaise made a choking noise. Charlie’s behaviour seemed out of character, but neither had spent much time with the Dragon Tamer, so it was hard for them to say. 

With a cutting glance at his housemates, Draco slid his unregistered wand out of his sleeve and cast an abrupt spell to cut off Pansy and Blaise from hearing the rest of the conversation. Silver eyes narrowing, he turned to face Charlie, mien icy. “I don’t know when you decided to appoint yourself my personal babysitter, but this has to stop. Objectively, I can appreciate what you’re trying to do. Subjectively, you’re failing in that endeavour and just pissing me off.” 

Charlie’s expression darkened. “Considering that you very nearly got yourself killed multiple times in the past months, perhaps you need a ‘personal babysitter, Black.’” His tone was sharp and curt. They were very much up in each other’s faces at this point. 

Suddenly, Draco’s expression cleared and he leaned back. “So that’s what this is about.” He muttered, rolling his eyes. 

Charlie’s tone turned more dangerous. “Excuse me?” he bit out. 

Draco smirked. “Maybe you’re partly right, but this has very little to do with me not telling you about Umbridge. This has more to do with the fact that I saved your life and you don’t know what to do about that.” 

Charlie’s eyes widened in shock, brain flashes to images of –

_A grunt of pain, a flash of red light. Heart in his throat, Charlie wheeled around just in time to catch Draco as he slid to the ground, the spray of blood—Draco’s blood--catching him across the collarbone. Next to him, he heard Fred shout out a spell, taking out the Death Eater who had just hit Draco. He could barely think straight through the haze of panic clouding his vision. Dropping to his knees, he lowered Draco to the ground. Draco’s eyelids were fluttering, and Charlie slapped the younger boy’s cheeks frantically, trying to keep him awake. There was blood everywhere, to the extent that Charlie was unsure how life-threatening the wounds actually were._

_“Don’t worry about me and take care of the rest of those bastards,” Draco’s voice was thready and weak, “I’ll be fine.” His eyes closed, and the haze in Charlie’s head grew to a roar. He stared at his blood-soaked hands…Draco would have died for him. Might be dying for him—_

“Charlie!” Draco snapped his fingers in front of Charlie’s face. “Are you hearing me?” 

Charlie’s lips turned down and he sighed. “Yeah…God, Draco. You scared the life out of me when you passed out. I thought—” he cut himself off and swallowed hard. 

Draco’s lips quirked up in a smile totally not befitting the current tense situation. “I was dead? Come on, Char. I’m no Gryffindor. I saw it all in a vision, remember? I knew I’d be fine. And you wouldn’t have been. Fair trade, a scar for your life. Don’t you think?” 

Charlie had the sudden, near uncontrollable urge to hug Draco. But, guessing Draco wouldn’t appreciate that action, he sighed again instead. “Well, at least Bill trusts you now.” He said, trying to focus on the positives. “And the scar is admittedly heroic looking.” 

Draco gave him an incredulous look. “I look like a bad storybook villain, but thanks for trying.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he waved his wand and included Pansy and Blaise in the conversation once more. 

“Lovers quarrel over?” Pansy asked glibly. 

Draco gave her a deadpan look. “You just don’t give up, do you?” he mumbled. His gaze swung to Charlie. “She does have half a point, though. Are you quite finished being irrationally overprotective?” 

Charlie sighed. “You still should have told me about your history with Umbridge, but yes…my reaction was admittedly a little irrational. You’re not my little brother, so I shouldn’t pester you so much.” 

Draco sniffed imperiously. “Apology accepted, I suppose. And you’re right, my hair isn’t anywhere near red enough to be one of your brood.” He offset the slightly offensive words with a small smile to demonstrate his banter. 

Blaise chuckled. “Thank Merlin for that. Can you imagine, a ginger Draco?” Pansy wrinkled her nose in agreement. 

Charlie changed the subject. “So, fifth year. Are you lot ready for your O.W.L’s? Got any ideas what careers you want to head into yet?”

Pansy raised her eyebrows slightly. “I think you forget who you’re talking to. Purebloods don’t really choose their careers, for the most part. Well, we have a limited set of options. I am, of course, expected to wed and be a perfect society wife. My mother has already been hinting at several prospective engagements over the summer. By the end of the year, I’m sure she will expect me to choose a rich Pureblood and get engaged.” 

Draco’s eyes flicked to his Slytherin friends. After a moment, he questioned, “Pansy, are you and Viktor serious at all? That would help you avoid an engagement. He’s a rich Pureblood, should fit the bill. Not to mention, he’s famous.” 

Pansy sighed. “Well, I’m pretty sure the Yule Ball was a friend date. We have been writing but I don’t think our relationship is close enough to merit an engagement offer on his part. He’s a decent enough bloke, certainly. Perhaps I should mention my mother’s fervour to get me married off in the next letter and see what Viktor thinks.” 

Blaise nodded. “My mother already informed me that I’m expected to manage the estate and secure the favour of a high-ranking Ministry official to take me under their wing.” 

Charlie frowned. “But is that what you want?” Blaise nodded. “My mother already informed me that I’m expected to manage the estate and secure the favour of a high-ranking Ministry official to take me under their wing.”

Draco smiled a little at Charlie’s cluelessness. “Char, none of us have to work to make a living. We’re ludicrously rich. A career is really just a formality, something we do to keep the family happy. It’s barely worth arguing over.” 

Blaise agreed. “In all reality, I’ll just spend a few months following some greying wizard around, then he’ll retire and I’ll take his place doing not much of anything, perhaps managing a few project accounts. The title and the prestige is all that matters.” 

Charlie sighed. “The world of the rich is something entirely different, that’s for sure. Well, I suppose if you’re happy enough with that, I won’t try to convince you otherwise. What about you, though, Draco? You don’t exactly have to please your father anymore.” 

Draco held back a wince. “Thanks for that reminder.” He bit out, but softened at Charlie’s look of contrition. “I have always been interested in Mind-Healing. My second choice would be a spell architect.” 

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “How very gold-collar of you. Monetarily that field has its benefits, but certainly that’s more work than would be expected of you.”

At Charlie’s confused look, Blaise explained, “There are certain professions that are arduous work and acceptable for a Pureblood heir to participate in. Jobs like being an Auror, a professional Quidditch player, that sort of thing. They are acknowledged because they allow for a considerable amount of influence or power. Jobs like Draco mentioned aren’t really seen as glamorous enough for a Pureblood, so they would be more normal for those who aren’t the top tier of the Pureblood hierarchy or are strapped for cash.” 

Charlie shook his head in exasperation. “How do you even keep track of all these unwritten rules? It’s madness.” 

Pansy smirked. “Oh, perhaps the fact that we are constantly bombarded by bitching if we step one toe over the line. Plus, the rules have been ingrained in our overblown heads practically since birth.”

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. “Exactly. Hence why I keep saying that an optional Pureblood Studies class would be a good curriculum addition. Although I suppose they would have to call it Ancient Wizarding Culture or something equally pretentious. Then at least the Mudbloods—” At Charlie’s scowl, Draco amended, “Muggleborns would have some insight into the way most of the wizarding world thinks. Even half-bloods are typically familiar with Pureblood culture and rules.” 

Pansy and Blaise both rolled their eyes. They’d only been hearing this rant for years. “Sure, Draco. Might as well add Dark Magic back into curriculum while you’re at it.” Pansy snarked. 

Draco huffed, but didn’t bother responding as the carriages were pulling up to the castle. “Home sweet torture.” He mumbled to himself as he headed toward the Great Hall. Time to face the music. 

He and Pansy moved to assist the Heads of House, who were herding the first-years out of the boats and into the castle. Unfortunately, it was one of their Prefect duties. “See you around, Char.” Draco tossed over his shoulder. “Take it easy on the high and mighty Slytherin firsties. They’ll stop posturing eventually.” He vaguely overheard Blaise and Pansy exchanging farewells. 

“Sure. But that’s Professor Weasley to you.” With a devious smirk, Charlie stepped away to join the other professors. 

Draco turned back to the boats, rolling his eyes. It wasn’t as if the whole wizarding world hadn’t seen the article revealing Charlie and Draco as reconciled allies. Allowing his face to assume its typical I-don’t-give-a-shit bitch face, Draco barked, “First years! Follow a Prefect or a Professor to the Great Hall. Stop standing around like deadheads.” He and Pansy gathered their own Flock and led the way to the castle, sharing put-upon looks. 

Eventually all the students and professors made it to the Great Hall, and the Sorting Ceremony began. Draco didn’t even bother taking note of the first-year students, instead focusing his attention on the food to avoid acknowledging the death glare he knew was coming from a certain Undersecretary at the professors’ table.

He did glance up briefly to acknowledge Dumbledore’s announcement of the new Professors Weasley, Firenze, and Umbridge. Draco listened attentively to Charlie’s very Gryffindor speech about fairness and learning, as well as a brief mention of his work as a Dragon Tamer. He chuckled to himself, able to practically see the hearts in the eyes of many teenage girls as they looked at their new Care of Magical Creatures professor. However, any humour he possessed quickly evaporated when he suddenly felt a second heavy gaze upon him. Letting his eyes flick around, he met the blank stare of the new Divination professor, who was apparently also a centaur. 

Well, shit. There was no telling how much the centaur would actually know or be able to see about Draco. If Trelawney was mostly a fraud, centaurs were well-known for their Divination capabilities. He hoped his natural Occlumency would extend to methods of Divination. Otherwise, he might be outed as a Seer, as the centaur was likely firmly in Dumbledore’s camp. Just what he needed, more potential issues to season the buffet of problems already spread before him. 

In all reality, though, there was no point worrying about that. There weren’t really any steps he could take to lessen damages or eliminate the issue, so he might as well focus his attention and efforts on something more manageable. Namely, mastering his Sight and avoiding the Order personnel. 

As the welcoming feast died down, Draco fingered his wand absently, glancing down the table to ensure all was well. At Severus’s nod, he rose to his feet along with the other prefects and began to lead the first years to the dormitory. 

As expected, a few of the braver first years sidled up to him as they walked. “Did you really fight Lord Voldemort?” A young, tousle-headed lad asked loudly. Many curious eyes turned their way. Draco raised an eyebrow, meeting the curious brown gaze of the youngster with a sharp look, taking in his appearance with a practiced eye. “A Burke, I assume. Ethan, isn’t it.” Without waiting for an answer, he leaned forward semi-threateningly and continued, _sotto voce_ , “Don’t ask stupid questions.” 

Ethan was not deterred in the slightest. “Well, you didn’t have that scar before. And you got disowned. So I guess you really did fight Death Eaters, huh? That’s so cool! You must be great at duelling.” 

“Shut it, kid.” Draco snapped. 

Pansy cackled behind Draco. “Looks like we found this year’s troublemaker already.” She muttered lowly into his ear, grinning. “And he’s a fan.” She moved past Draco to open the dormitory portrait, as the seventh-year Prefects explained about the password, and how often it was changed. 

The first years trundled off to their respective dormitories, taking their trunks and other belongings with them. If there was one thing to be grateful for, it was that most children who ended Slytherin, unlike other houses, rarely brought along pets. The same was true this year, thank Merlin. 

Just as Draco settled his things in his dormitory and was heading back out into the Common Room, Snape poked his head inside the portrait. “Dumbledore would like to speak with you now, Draco.” 

Gritting his teeth, Draco followed his Head of House. As the portrait closed behind them, he muttered savagely, “He couldn’t even wait for me to settle in, apparently. Just had to pounce right away.” 

Snape gave him an apathetic look. “Given your unpleasant history with the Selwyn family, I recommend you mention Umbridge’s negative inclinations toward you to the Headmaster. I doubt it will change anything, but at least when something happens he might react more promptly, knowing your prior history.” 

Draco shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I assume this is another recruitment attempt?” 

Seemingly annoyed, Severus replied only, “Of a sort. Come along.” His robes billowed out behind him as he stalked through the corridors, Draco a step behind. 

Snape muttered some candy name that was clearly the password and ushered him into the Headmaster’s office. Dumbledore peered over the top of his spectacles, eyes twinkling when he spotted Draco.

“Ah, young Draco. Welcome, welcome. I trust the welcoming feast was enjoyable?” 

As Draco stepped closer to the batty old man’s desk, he realized they were not alone in the office. Namely, one Sirius Black slouched against a bookcase in the corner, smirking at Snape. “Snivellus. Cousin.” He greeted, a touch condescendingly. 

Draco’s eyes narrowed at the derogatory nickname, but Snape didn’t even react, ignoring Sirius completely. “If that is all…” the Potions Master said meaningfully, clearly looking for a chance to escape. Traitor. 

Dumbledore waved him off. “Oh, yes, of course. Thank you, Severus. Please return to your duties.” Snape promptly turned on his heel and left the office, meeting Draco’s silver eyes briefly with an unreadable look as he exited. 

Pushing himself off the bookshelf, Sirius moved closer to the desk. “Looking a little gaunt there, Black. Hard living without daddy’s money, isn’t it.” Despite the belligerent words, his tone was gentle, almost sympathetic. 

Draco nearly snorted. “Oh, money isn’t the issue. I made sure I had plenty before I did something so public. So you don’t need to give me an allowance, thanks. I’m still independently wealthy. Just reputationally impoverished, I’m afraid.” He lifted his chin, daring Sirius to pity him.

Sirius’s eyes flickered in surprise. “Oh? Well, at least you were smart about telling your family to fuck off.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but the doors swung open again, revealing a fairly young woman with bright pink hair wearing Auror robes. “Wotcher, Siri. Hullo, little cousin Draco. Evening, Dumbledore.” 

Sirius groaned. “I wish you would stop calling me that, Tonks. Siri is a girl’s name! You don’t hear me calling you Nymphadora.” He thought he saw a tiny smirk on Draco’s face, but it was gone before he could confirm it. Or, more importantly, confirm whose expense it was at. 

Dumbledore chuckled merrily. “Welcome, Auror Tonks. Thank you for coming.” Leaning forward, hands folded together and resting on his desk, he added, “Why don’t you all take a seat and I’ll fill you in on why I called you here.” 

The three complied, although Draco stubbornly seated himself a good distance away from the others. Sirius, after a nod from Dumbledore, began. “As you probably know, Tonks, cousin Draco was disinherited last spring after all that business with the Death Eaters. Now he is reconnected to the Black family magic, courtesy of yours truly. And—” he looked down his nose at Draco, “judging by the state of his health, the magic hasn’t fully integrated with his core yet.” 

Draco didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at their stupidity. “That isn’t the issue here, _Siri_. My magic is fine and completely functional. My current condition is unrelated to the happenings last term.” 

Dumbledore stroked his beard, making Draco want to punch him. “Forgive me, young Draco, but there may be lingering damages you are unaware of. I think it would be best if Auror Tonks stays around. Being a Black, she can help you reacquaint yourself with your magic and manage the changes in your abilities. A private teacher, of sorts.” 

Draco couldn’t believe the Headmaster’s audacity. Forcing a spy upon him in the guise of a tutor? That was a new low. “I respectfully decline.” He bit out, appalled by the blatant manipulative effort. “I thought I made it clear by running away that I had no desire to be involved with the Order, but it seems crystal clear isn’t clear enough. Apparently, I have to say it for you people to understand. I don’t want your help. I am not interested and will never be interested in joining the Order.” He made to stand, but Dumbledore’s sharp stare pinned him in place. 

“Sorry to say, Draco, but I’m afraid this is not negotiable. Your health is at risk here, and Sirius is now your legal guardian. Sirius? What do you think?” Dumbledore turned to the Animagus, clearly expecting him to comply with the power play. 

Surprisingly, Sirius hesitated. He glanced toward Draco, taking in his furious expression, and then to Tonks, who seemed nonplussed. Going with his gut, he answered, “Tonks and I will take a look at his core and do a few tests of his magic. If nothing is amiss, I think we can trust Draco on this one. He does, after all, know his own magic best.” 

For a fraction of a second, Dumbledore’s expression was thunderous. He covered it up quickly, however. “Very well, Sirius. If there is anything you require of me, you know where to find me.” 

With a nod, Sirius stood, leading Tonks and Draco out of the office and into a nearby courtyard which was empty. 

Draco crossed his arms over his chest defensively and eyed his cousins warily. “Well, get your tests over with, then. I don’t have all day.” He muttered crossly after a few moments of awkward silence. 

Tonks chuckled. “He certainly has the Black sass. Cheers, then. I’ll get started. What changes have you noticed in your magic, first of all? Anything drastic?” 

Draco frowned. “My dueling spells are weaker and my standard charms are easier. No drastic changes.” Unless you count my Sight. 

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. “The families are pretty much the same blood at this point, so that’s no surprise. It’s good news that it doesn’t seem to have destabilised you too much.” 

“As I said.” Draco reminded them, a bit irritated. “My magic is fine.” 

Tonks shrugged. “Not saying we don’t believe you, but you do look like hell. Better to be sure. Throw a few spells and charms about, just to check.” 

Resisting the urge to strangle his annoying cousins, Draco did as he was ordered. He cast a Lumos, Wingardium Leviosa, and Protego in quick succession. “Happy?” he snarked. “Dumbledore just wanted someone to spy on me. I’m fine.” 

Squinting at him, Sirius decided he was telling the truth, “So it seems.” He had been a little suspicious when Dumbledore seemed to adamant to help the Slytherin, despite his protests. He could see now that his suspicions were correct. “Knew I couldn’t trust the old man. He did leave me in Azkaban for years, even though he knew I was innocent.” The last part was muttered bitterly, but Draco had always had sharp ears.

Hmm. Interesting. So perhaps some of those in Dumbledore’s camp were not as fanatic of followers as he believed. That heralded some potential poaching opportunities…

Tonks shrugged, unfazed. “The old Headmaster always did like playing his games.” She said simply, turning to Draco. “Anyway, cousin, well met. Our mothers were sisters, if you didn’t know. Then my mum was disowned, though not disinherited like you, luckily. Otherwise I wouldn’t exist!” She chortled, sounding quite mad to Draco. 

“A pleasure.” Draco’s tone pointedly relayed his lie, as he did not sound pleased at all. “Now if that’s all?” 

Sirius only shrugged and Tonks didn’t say anything further, so Draco left quickly. Suddenly, he paused, and turned back to face the both of them. “Sev thought I should tell the Headmaster, but after that display there’s no way I am returning to his office anytime soon. So you can relay this: Umbridge, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, has brought along a ward of the Selwyn family. They are distantly related. My father was once close allies of the family, but he wronged them many years ago. Both Selwyn and Umbridge despise me and will likely do their best to make my life miserable this term.” He sneered. “While I hardly expect any kind of preventative measures, as you lot are never helpful, perhaps the esteemed Headmaster will at least step in before things get beyond the point of no return. Namely, no return for myself, as the pink toad would happily destroy me.” With a mocking nod, he turned again and left his cousins staring after him in amusement. 

He wearily returned to the dormitory despite the early hour, absently fingering the anti-scrying amulet splayed across his chest. After that fiasco, he no longer had the energy to try and wrestle with his Sight. He would save that for the morning. 

Draco flopped into his bed, only to have a full-blown moment of panic when he realised something was wrong. His body shuddered, eyes unnaturally fluttering closed as he screamed and lost consciousness. 

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIii

As he slept, in another area of the castle another important conversation was taking place. Instead of three Blacks, this conversation involved Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and two Weasleys. 

After months of being unable to satisfy her curiosity and repeated (failed) attempts to wring the truth out of Draco, Hermione had finally done what Draco had ordered her to all along and tried to talk to Charlie Weasley. 

Harry and Ron, well, they were just along for the ride. 

After the welcoming feast had ended and their prefect duties had been completed, the Golden Trio ventured out into the corridors and headed to Charlie’s quarters in the staff wing. The Dragon Tamer seemed unsurprised to see them at his door, and he steered them inside, plonking steaming mugs of chocolate into their hands. He then shepherded the three into armchairs which were carelessly arranged around a coffee table, settling in for a long chat. 

“What brings you to my door this evening?” Charlie began when the three remained conspicuously silent. 

Both Ron and Harry glanced to Hermione, so Charlie immediately knew who had orchestrated this conversation. “Well, about the Death Eaters—” she broke off with a shake of her head and restarted, “Draco wouldn’t tell me anything. He just kept saying to talk to you.” Her tone of voice betrayed how infuriating she found that. 

Charlie stifled a chuckle. “That’s hardly a surprise. He’s a very private person to begin with, and you all are certainly not on the best of terms. It’s more surprising that you actually expected him to answer your invasive questions.” 

Hermione glared at that, indignant, but then deflated. “I suppose you’re right.” She admitted grudgingly. 

Ron grinned at his brother, finding Hermione’s talking down hilarious. “But you will, right? Answer our questions?” 

Charlie shrugged, bringing his mug to his lips and taking a deep sip. “I can try. What is it that you want to know?” He was no longer wearing the formal robes he had worn to the welcoming feast, instead only donning his white dress shirt and trousers. He set his mug aside and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling his sleeves to his elbows and making himself comfortable. 

Hermione flushed slightly at the sight of his muscular forearms and internally wondered if Ron would grow up to be as handsome as Charlie and Bill had. 

Surprisingly, Harry spoke up first. “Could you walk us through what happened at the start of last term? How did you meet Draco, and how did he convince you to work together on the plan? He’s a complete wanker…” 

Charlie smiled a little wistfully. “I think you’d be surprised. Draco’s incredibly charismatic when he wants to be. Just…prickly at first. A bit like a dragon, really.” Ron made a face, clearly not believing it, and Charlie moved on. “I caught him wandering the grounds before the Tournament, a restricted area. I stopped him, but it turned out that he had a pass.” He paused, shaking his head. “I’m still not sure how or why, but he did have one. Anyway, I apologized for assuming he was up to no good, and we chatted a bit. Professor Snape showed up and he seemed to want to avoid him, so I invited him along while I worked.” He paused there, taking another sip of his drink and pondering how he was going to spin this story. 

Glancing up, he met three pairs of eyes that stared in rapt attention. With a smile, Charlie continued, “I was just making small talk, asked who he thought would win the Tournament. At that point, he said something surprising. He told me ‘there will be no winner.’ At that point, he already knew the whole plan for the end of the task. I suspect he overheard the Death Eaters at the Malfoy Manor, but he never confirmed or denied it. Regardless, I asked him to tell me everything. And he did. With that kind of knowledge, I had to do something.” 

Hermione made a frustrated noise. “But why? Why didn’t you go to Dumbledore, or the Aurors? Surely that would have been less dangerous.” 

Charlie only shrugged. “Draco insisted. He doesn’t trust Dumbledore, and claimed the Aurors were compromised. He didn’t give me the details of the attack, so I didn’t really have a choice but to go along with his plan. That’s when I asked Fred, George, Ginny, and Bill to help.” 

Harry frowned. “But why not us, Charlie? Surely three extra wands would’ve helped.” 

Charlie rubbed his forehead. “Again, Draco’s decision. He doesn’t like you three, or at least he trust you. And, well, it’s more than likely that you would have told Dumbledore, which he was adamant we shouldn’t do. In the end we accomplished what we needed to regardless, so I suppose he was right.” 

Ron frowned at his brother. “You trust him.” It wasn’t a question, but Charlie nodded anyways. “I do. I think he has a lot to offer, if someone would just believe in him and urge him to do the right thing. He’s intelligent and has some unique magical gifts. Honestly, if Lucius Malfoy was my father, I can’t say I wouldn’t be worse than Draco. He’s a good man, considering his upbringing, and he did make the right choice when the time came, despite the danger. He almost died doing the right thing, if not for Sirius. Not to mention he saved my life. It’s hard not to trust someone who has bled for you.”  
The Golden Trio exchanged glances, understanding that sentiment. The shenanigans they had been through during their four years at Hogwarts certainly demonstrated the strong bonds that dangerous situations could produce. 

“What about his health?” Harry suddenly asked. “That one time, when he borrowed the Invisibility Cloak...he was hurt, right?”

Ron glowered, butting in before Charlie could answer. “Who cares if the prat got hurt? Have you all forgotten how much he’s tormented us throughout the years? Just because he fought Death Eaters once doesn’t make him a good person!” 

Harry sighed. “I thought the same thing Ron, and I nearly killed him. Or did you forget that? But it wasn’t his fault that the Death Eaters attacked you. And, well, I think we’ve misjudged him. He’s an arse, but he’s not our enemy.”

Charlie felt proud. He was still not happy with Harry for attacking Draco twice, but at least he seemed to be learning from his mistakes. “Harry is right. Draco isn’t your enemy, and it’s time to put childish rivalries aside. And yes, he was hurt rather seriously. I never managed to find out exactly how it happened though…” Unbeknownst to Charlie, the injuries they were talking about were entirely different. Charlie was thinking of Draco’s mangled arm during the Second Task, while the Golden Trio had been asking about Draco’s back injury, which only Blaise and Severus knew was caused by a whip. 

“And now? He seems to have lost a lot of weight over the summer.” Hermione questioned. 

Charlie sighed. “It was a tough time for him, and he was in a coma for a while last term, remember? Regardless, disinheritance messes with your magical core, which has a profound effect on the body.” While partly true, the meditation coma was entirely a different story. With a wry smile, the redhead added, “His eating habits are deplorable in the first place, so it’s not much of a surprise.” 

Ron was still sulking. “Why him, Charlie? I mean, I guess I don’t care if you like blokes or whatever, but did it have to be him?”

Charlie snorted. “Ronald Weasley, he’s underage and that’s illegal. Not to mention, I'm a Professor and he's a student. The very notion is ridiculous. When will you learn not to believe everything you hear? I would have thought the rift in you and Harry’s friendship last year would have demonstrated the foolhardiness of listening to idle gossip.” 

Ron flushed at the reminder of his previous behaviour toward Harry. “Well, you do like him, don’t you? You seem to hang around him awfully regularly.” 

Charlie sighed. “He’s certainly more of an adult than you are, that’s for sure.” His tone was exasperated, but fond. “Ron, the things you come up with.” He reminded himself that he wasn’t hiding anything. No, there was nothing to hide. 

Hermione spoke up, thankfully. “Honestly, Ron, your brother is a Professor now. How irresponsible do you think he is?” 

Charlie sweated a bit at that, but made no further comment. “Is that all you wanted to ask? Gin probably told you the rest, about the events during the Third Task. I can’t imagine there’s much more that you want to know.” I hope, he added privately. 

Ron crossed his arms over his chest, but said nothing. Harry looked pensive, but didn’t seem to have anything further to say. 

Hermione, on the other hand…“You said Draco had ‘unique magical gifts.’ What does that mean? Harry beat him in duels every time. And his grades aren’t better than mine, except in Potions.” The bushy-haired Gryffindor was like a dog with a bone at times. 

Charlie laughed. “That one I can’t answer. He’d be livid. You know how Slytherins get about divulging their strengths and weaknesses.” 

Hermione, dare he say it, pouted. It took an immense amount of willpower to hold back a guffaw. Luckily, he was saved from his effort when Harry spoke up again, “What do you think I should do to thank Draco for clearing Sirius’s name?”

Blinking in surprise, Charlie hesitated to answer. “If Draco were here, he would probably say leaving him alone would be a great reward. Let me think a moment about that though.” The Dragon Tamer smiled to himself. Draco was smart, but not always reasonable when he was angry with someone. Charlie, on the other hand, was a very good mediator as he generally kept a level head. In this instance, Draco would angrily brush away the suggestion of Harry Potter’s help, but perhaps there was something that would be genuinely beneficial. Charlie pondered it for several long moments. “The first thing that comes to mind is finding a way to heal the curse scar over his eye, but supposedly that’s not possible. It’s probably better to focus on something more realistic. How about…hum, no, he would mock you.” He paused, stumped. “Honestly, I’ll have to think about that one for a bit, Harry. Draco’s not exactly easy.” 

Ron choked at that wording, and Charlie scowled at him. “Easy to find gifts for, Ron. For Merlin’s sake, you seem to have a fixation upon this.” 

Hermione snickered behind her hand, enjoying Ron being teased for once. Harry ignored his friends and smiled at Charlie. “If you think of something, let me know. I don’t think I can give him anything otherwise. I’m not sure I wouldn’t piss him off with whatever I ended up giving him, and that defeats the purpose.” 

Sensing the conversation had come to a close, Hermione and Ron stood up, and Harry shortly after. “Thanks for talking with us, Charlie.” Hermione said warmly. “It’s good to finally get answers.” She frowned, then amended, “Well, some answers.” 

Charlie simply nodded, still sipping the remnants of his hot chocolate. “Have a good evening. Go straight to your Common Room, its nearly curfew.” 

Ron rolled his eyes. “Yes, Professor.” He responded sarcastically. 

Charlie just grinned back. “And don’t you forget it.” The Trio left the room with another round of farewells, and Charlie stood to collect the used mugs and carry them to the small kitchenette.   
Methodically, he rinsed and dried the pottery while lost in thought. Harry’s question was intriguing, really. It made Charlie realise that he honestly didn’t know Draco that well, outside of the life-or-death interactions they’d had during the Tournament. He didn’t know what Draco enjoyed, what foods he liked best, his favourite colour…any of that. The typical way for male adolescent bonding was Quidditch, but Draco had never expressed any interest in the sport. Yet, he had been a great flier from what Charlie could tell during the Tournament. He wondered why the blonde Slytherin had never tried out for the Slytherin Quidditch team. It was a popular social activity and would’ve improved Draco’s circle of friends or allies, whichever he actually considered them. 

Charlie reminded himself to ask Draco about those things later. It was important to know these things someone that you considered a friend. Mentally he searched through what he could remember of all their conversations, trying to recall if Draco had ever mentioned something that he enjoyed. Then, he remembered one. 

Mind-Healing. Draco had commented that he was interested in the Mind-Healing field. So, there was one thing, but Harry couldn’t really be of help there. The young Gryffindor likely didn’t even know about the existence of the field.

_Wow, I really don’t know him that well._ Charlie sighed. Perhaps some of the other Slytherins would be able to answer Harry’s question better? They had known the acerbic blonde their whole lives, after all.

By the time he had gone through the rest of his routines and was crawling into bed, he didn’t have any more answers. He finally was able to sleep despite the heavy feeling of wrongness in the pit of his stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

A hoarse scream startled the entire fifth-year Slytherin dormitory awake. Blaise, whose bed was right next to Draco’s, practically leapt from his bed in alarm. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, it took him a few moments to notice the eerie light painting the curtains and walls, as well as the source of the light. He bolted over to Draco’s bed and tried not to stare in horror. 

Blood-red light encircled Draco’s limbs and torso like writhing chains. The blonde Slytherin was limp, pale, and twitching. The other boys in the room crowded around, looking frightened and mussed from sleep. 

Voice sharp, Blaise snapped at Greg, “Find Professor Snape immediately!” The larger boy flung the door open and hurried out, ignoring the crowd gathering in the Common Room. Pansy shoved her way inside, slamming the door shut behind her and keeping the incident away from the nosy housemates outside. “What the hell is going on?” She demanded, taking in Draco and the creepy magic constricting him to the bed, which lit up the room in diabolical crimson color. 

“I don’t know, but don’t touch it! It looks…evil.” Blaise’s brow was furrowed in worry. “I’ve never heard of anything like this before.” He lowered his voice. “I am certain Umbridge is behind this, somehow.” Vincent had switched dormitories this year, clearly intending to separate himself cleanly from Draco and his friends, and Adrian Pucey had taken his place. Unsure if they could trust Pucey, Blaise made sure to keep up appearances. 

Theo tried to hide his worry, attempting to do the same. “Is this a disease? Is he contagious?” 

Adrian scoffed. “Don’t be a dumbass, clearly someone left a curse for him.” He seemed faintly worried as well. “Black isn’t exactly Mr. Popular right now.” 

Pansy rounded on the boy. “What is that supposed to mean? Did you do this?” Her expression was dark and far scarier than it had any right to be. 

Adrian held up his hands in defence. “Whoa, hold on! Nothing like that. Draco’s a smart chap, I’d be foolish to go up against him. Despite what Crabbe says, I have confidence that a former Malfoy can pick the winning side. Why do you think I switched dormitories? I was planning to have chat later and offer my assistance.” 

Blaise wasn’t buying it. “You have to admit its suspicious, but we can deal with this later. I have no doubt that if it was you, it wasn’t only you.” The door burst open again, and Snape swept inside, following closely by Greg. 

Severus took one look and scowled even more deeply than usual. “No student is capable of this without a great deal of instruction.” He muttered angrily. Whirling on the Slytherins, he demanded. “Out, all of you! I have work to do. Parkinson, fetch the Headmaster, and Zabini, you go alert Madame Pomfrey. I will do my best to unravel this in the meantime.” 

Theo and Greg looked mutinous but obeyed their Head of House reluctantly. Outside, there was a buzz as the students who had been awakened milled about, trying to gather information about the happenings. When the rest of the students emerged, whispers circled the room. It was obvious to all but the first-years who was still inside, and thus the one at the center of the trouble. 

Inside the room, Snape worked quickly to cast the counter-curse for what he identified as a _Constrigas_ hex, a spell that used chains of blood magic to slowly constrict the affected wizard. It was highly illegal, but not particularly subtle. At the least, Severus could feel a miniscule shred of relief in that the hex clearly wasn’t intended to kill, only cause intense pain. It wasn’t swift enough to cause death before it was detected in the middle of a Hogwarts dormitory. “ _Cresco_.” Snape murmured, waving his wand over Draco’s prone form. 

A high-pitched whine filled the air as the magic coalesced over Draco’s chest and then expelled. The Seer’s flailing limbs dropped to the bed like a puppet with its strings cut, face pale and unmoving.   
Face taut with something like worry, Severus swooped in and lifted Draco from the bed, doing his best to be as gentle as possible. “Nott, get the door.” He barked from the inside. Inwardly his worry level shot up as he realized just how lightweight his godson truly was. Lifting Draco took barely any effort, and Severus had never been one for sport. 

Immediately, the door swung open, and Severus strode through. The hubbub within the room rose to a fever pitch as students took in Draco’s unconscious state, but at Snape’s thunderous scowl they moved back and allowed the Potions professor to exit the Common Room. Over his shoulder, Snape added, “Pucey, Nott, Goyle, come along. The rest of you, return to your dormitories immediately.”

Not allowing for any protest, Severus ducked through the portrait, Draco’s three roommates right behind him. They all grimly made their way to the Hospital Wing, where Madame Pomfrey and the Headmaster were waiting. Pansy and Blaise hovered worriedly to the side of the room as well. 

Snape carefully slid Draco into one of the beds, again doing his best not to jostle the blonde. Taking in the four persistent roommates and Pansy Parkinson, Snape’s scowl deepened. “Sit to the side and stay out of the way. We will get to the bottom of this after we make sure Draco’s no longer in any danger. I don’t want to hear a word from any of you.” 

The Slytherins obeyed immediately, clearly not wanting to test Severus Snape in a crabby mood. Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he watched the scene, but his expression turned more serious when he turned to regard Draco.

“What exactly happened, Severus?” Pomfrey questioned, moving to Draco’s still form and performing a few diagnostic spells. “Goodness, he is covered in bruises.” True to her words, bruises crisscrossed Draco’s skin like winding vines, dark and painful-looking. After another scan, she tsked. “There’s something odd about his magic, too. It almost seems…tainted? What sort of spell caused this?” 

Severus looked livid. “It was a _Constrigas_ hex. He was probably under it for about three minutes before I cast the counter-curse, _Cresco_.” 

Pomfrey frowned, scurrying over to several tomes spread across a desk. She flipped through one for a moment before seemingly finding what she was searching for. She began to read the pages thoroughly.

Dumbledore looked solemn. “The _Constrigas_ hex is Dark Magic, a particularly nasty form of blood magic. It is highly illegal, and no ordinary student would know of this hex. I doubt one could cast it without training.” He did not seem pleased by this realization at all. 

“How could this have happened in the middle of the dormitories?” Pomfrey sighed, returning to Draco’s side. “It appears that the curse has a nasty side effect, a sort of magic purge. It is not fatal or painful, but it is very destabilizing. It might be best for Mr. Black to refrain from casting any spells for a few days, maybe even as long as a week. The results of the purge are highly unpredictable, and can cause random fluctuations of magic, almost reminiscent of the flare-ups that happen when young, untrained wizards become upset. For the first day or two, it might be best for Draco to stay away from people entirely. It seems each case reacts differently to the curse, depending on their magical strengths.”

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Young Draco is skilled at Charms, is he not?” he asked, turning to Snape. 

Severus snorted. “It is one of his many skills, yes. I do not think we can count upon the consequences of this curse being as harmless as clothes smoothing charms, however. Poppy’s suggestion is probably wise, but I think it would be best to have at least one person watching over Draco at all times.” He frowned. “I’m afraid I cannot volunteer for the job, however.” He lowered his voice so that none of the Slytherins could possibly overhear. “I believe my absence would be noted and passed along to the Death Eaters attempting to regroup.” 

Dumbledore nodded. “That is wise, Severus. Poppy likely can alleviate some of the burden, but it would be best to have a rotation of sorts. Perhaps Sirius Black and Remus Lupin could offer their assistance?” 

Snape sneered. “This is not an opportunity to inundate Draco with Order members, Headmaster.” The Potions professor reminded him. “Draco would be most displeased. Perhaps Black, if we must, but the werewolf should be kept out of this. I suggest the Weasley instead. Draco seems to trust him.” 

Dumbledore didn’t seem too displeased by that recommendation. “Yes, yes. Perhaps Poppy can handle watching over young Draco in the mornings, Sirius in the afternoons, and Charles after his courses in the evenings?” 

That seemed acceptable to the three Hogwarts staff present, contingent upon Sirius Black’s agreement. 

Poppy still hovered at Draco’s bedside. “He is probably in pain, but I would like to wait for him to wake up before I give him any Potions. Perhaps a pain reliever, and a calming draught…It is unfortunate that Mr. Black is so resistant to healing potions. I don’t think I can give him enough to be effective on top of all the mess his magical core must be going through.” 

Severus would swear that, were Dumbledore a dog, his ears would have perked up. “A resistance to healing potions? How peculiar. How did you come to realize this, Poppy?” 

The Mediwitch didn’t face the Headmaster, but continued bustling about, fetching potions and leaving them on Draco’s bedside table. “Draco was a frequent visitor last term, always coming in with some small injury or another. Every time I gave him a potion, they were less effective. The first time, I believe it took three to heal a small burn. Now it is closer to six or seven.” 

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something more but was interrupted when Draco shot upright on the bed and groaned at the painful motion, quickly slumping back. As he did so, the charmed lamps on the wall nearby exploded, causing the light in the room to dim considerably. 

The Slytherin students all jumped from the other corner, heads swinging toward the loud noise. Glimpsing that Draco was awake, Greg and Pansy immediately stood and moved toward their ailing friend.   
Severus moved in front of them to cut off their path, while Dumbledore quickly cast a barrier spell, sketching several runes into the air with his wand. A rectangular box, glowing yellow and vaguely resembling force barriers from the Muggle film Star Wars, surrounded Draco’s bed. 

At the unexpected magic, Draco seemed to tense up even more, which caused his own magic to react accordingly. A crackle of magic that sounded just like electricity sparked against the barrier, causing it to flicker. 

Making sure that the two students didn’t move any closer, Severus turned around. “Draco, calm down! You were cursed, and the aftereffects are causing your magic to lash out. The calmer you remain, the better.” 

Draco scoffed. “Perhaps that explanation should have come before the barrier spell? I can hardly be blamed for reacting negatively when I was just caged in with no explanation.” Despite the obvious venom in his voice, it lacked strength. He looked haggard, and still painfully thin. 

Dumbledore only smiled in return. “My apologies, Mr. Black! But it is as Severus has said: I’m afraid that we don’t know quite what to expect, so I reacted perhaps rather startlingly. Don’t be afraid, the barrier spell is harmless. Anyone can pass through it, it merely blocks magic.” 

The blonde Slytherin resisted the urge to bare his teeth at Dumbledore, but only barely. Pomfrey scooped up the nearby potions and began urging Draco to drink them. Once that was taken care of, she turned to Pansy and Greg, who were slowly inching closer, and gestured that they could now come closer. 

“Best to remain outside the barrier.” Snape reminded them dryly. He turned to the other students, who were also moving closer. The exception was Theodore Nott, who kept up his disinterested front. 

“Nott, go fetch a meal from the kitchens and bring it back here.” 

Theo obeyed, smirking at Snape. “Sure thing, Professor.” He disappeared out the door. 

Draco rolled his eyes at his friends. “No need to look as if the world is ending.” He snarked. 

Pansy was not amused. “I told you, you shouldn’t have come back this term! It is only the first day, and already something like this happened!” She was nearly in tears, she was so distraught. 

Blaise wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing slightly to comfort her. “She’s right.” He agreed. “You look like death warmed over. And it’s been ages since I remember you actually being healthy, or even injury-free. This can’t continue.” 

Draco’s temper snapped, and it showed in the intensity of his gaze. There was another surge of magic against the barrier, bigger than before. Furthermore, he tried not to growl at Dumbledore, who reinforced the flickering barrier with stronger runes. “Do you really think there is anyone in this school who would have expected that spell? It’s practically unknown for a reason. I am starting to get sick of all of you trying to mother me. Besides, it wasn’t my choice to stay here. I was forced.” He gave the Headmaster a sharp look. “Perhaps now you understand why I insisted on taking a term away.” There was a bite to his words that bordered on disrespectful. 

Severus pursed his lips together in disapproval. “Headmaster, if you would, please see what you can find out from Draco’s roommates about how this curse was placed in the dormitory. I would like to speak to Draco in private.” He paused, stare swinging briefly to Pomfrey. “That is, if Draco is no longer in any pain?” 

The Mediwitch nodded in confirmation. “It might take a few moments before the potions take effect, but yes, I have given him what I can for the physical injuries. The calming draught should help with the fluctuations, as well.” She drifted over to Dumbledore, wanting to hear what the students had to say about the night’s happenings. 

Snape ensured they were out of earshot before he began to speak. “I hope you realize these happenings cannot continue. I don’t know how much more your body, or your magical core, can take of this without weakening beyond functionality. You’re frightfully underweight, paler than a ghost, and starting to accumulate injuries faster than they can heal. I’m worried, Draco.”

Draco was prepared to retort back until that last sentence, but Severus’s blunt statement gave him pause. He deflated and sighed deeply. “You think I’m unaware of this? I’m backed into a corner, Sev, with enemies on all sides. I can’t leave Hogwarts. Believe me, I’ve tried. There are just so many things that need my attention, and my magic…” he cut off abruptly. 

Severus was instantly suspicious. “Your magic…what?” He demanded. 

Draco wavered. He knew by now that he could trust Severus with anything, and the Dark Lord was weakened now, weakened enough that Severus didn’t need to be so cautious. When there was a professor out to get him, along with disgruntled factions from both sides not too pleased with him, could he really afford to keep Severus in the dark forever? 

Also, Draco couldn’t stop worrying about the new Divination professor. Centaurs were well-known to be proficient in the field, so it was inevitable that Draco’s abilities would be noticed to some degree by Firenze. He was sure he could hide the more unusual aspects, the most suspicious parts, but not everything. 

Snape could sense his hesitation. “I think it’s time to tell me what’s really going on, Draco. I didn’t push you before when you came forward with information that should have been impossible for you to know. I assume that’s what this is about. Whatever that information source is, it’s clearly putting you in more danger than you’re capable of handling alone.” He went straight in for the kill. 

Draco knew, knew, that he was right. But old habits were hard to break. When only five other people in the world knew about this, and none of them his housemates, he had a degree of safety. “If I told you, I’d be trusting you with something a lot more dangerous than my life.” He warned. 

The enigmatic statement threw Severus. “What do you mean by that?” the Head of House questioned, eyeing Draco dubiously. Glancing back at the other occupant of the room, Severus made a decision. When Draco failed to respond, Snape stepped inside the barrier and cast a muffling spell. It would be impossible for anyone else to overhear the conversation, even Dumbledore. “It doesn’t matter what you mean, I suppose. Trust me, Draco. I can help you.” He met Draco’s stone-grey eyes steadily, urging his godson to explain. 

Draco’s remaining resolve collapsed like wet sand. “I’m a Seer.” He admitted, working to keep his voice from wavering. “A really, really powerful Seer.” 

Snape’s eyes widened in surprise. That was nowhere near what he had been expecting. “A Seer?” he repeated in shock, blinking. “I know that it is fairly common in the Black line to have hints of the Sight, but it has been centuries since we had a legitimate Seer.” 

Draco looked miserable. “That’s not nearly all.” He exhaled, focusing intensely on remaining calm. He didn’t want his magic to hurt Severus. “Since I was young, the Sight was small things. Flashes of memories, or perhaps seconds-long glimpses of future events, when I touched someone skin to skin. I could read personalities. People’s voices have color, to me.” He tried to smile. “Yours is unique, a blend of yellow and grey.” 

Severus could tell he was working himself up to the more difficult aspects. “Go on.” He urged, resisting the urge to put a hand on Draco’s shoulder or something equally Hufflepuff. 

“I always had dreams, but they were blurry, vague. I didn’t remember anything specific when I woke up until last year, before the Triwizard Tournament. I had a dream and Charlie was in it. I didn’t know who he was at the time, but I recognized him from my dream when I met him. In the dream, I was Charlie, working with dragons. I felt what he felt and did what he did. He got burned. The dream showed events that happened a few days before he came to Hogwarts.” Draco swallowed, avoiding Snape’s eyes. “When I woke up, I had the same burn across my arm.” 

Severus sucked in a breath. That was insanely dangerous. His mind immediately began to fly through terrible scenarios, putting together the pieces of some of the injuries Draco had come to him with over the last year. “So, the Tournament…you saw it all in a dream?” 

Draco nodded, expression tight. “Multiple versions, depending on choices I made within the dream. Who I told, what I did. It nearly always ended badly. It’s why I chose the way I did, why I had to trust Charlie.” 

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to manage the stress. “And so? What changed? Are you having horrific visions of something now?” 

Draco snorted. “Oh, I wish that was all it was, believe me. No, I think it was because of the disownment. When I connected to the Black magic, it all got ten times worse, twenty times stronger. The Blacks have a stronger history of Seers than the Malfoys, and it must have boosted my Sight. I had things handled to a certain degree before that shitstorm, but the new magic left my control in shambles. I started getting blinding headaches. From what I know, they can be deadly if not curtailed. They occur when my abilities outmatch my control.” Severus started to interject, but Draco held up a hand. “Let me finish, and I’ll answer all your questions after.” 

Severus raised his eyebrows but acquiesced with a nod. 

Draco continued, “Based upon my research, I decided to enter deep meditation and try to determine what was wrong, or at least a way to stop the headaches. Clearly, that didn’t work. I woke up and nearly two months had passed. Hence why I look like a corpse. So, slowly dying from my own magic and with no solutions in mind, I came back only to realize that Henry Selwyn had decided to grace Hogwarts with his presence. If that wasn’t bad enough, he brought along the pink toad, who probably hates me even more than Henry does. I suspect she was behind this fiasco.” He gestured to the dark bruising starkly visible on his forearms. “Now, we have an actual Divination professor who can likely recognize my abilities to some extent, the Death Eaters and my own father want to murder me, and Dumbledore and his merry band of do-gooders want to recruit me and all hold each other’s hands.” Realizing that was probably to Snape, a member of the Order, he winced. “No offense. You’re a special case.” Clearing his throat, he added, “I also had a vision last year about possibly being chained up in a dungeon and experimented on, so there’s that.” 

Severus would have been amused by Draco’s disorderly rambling had the circumstances been less dire. “You’ve certainly dug your own grave.” He agreed morbidly. “I appreciate the courage it took to tell me. I know firsthand how Slytherins feel about revealing personal information. I will do my best to find a solution to your headaches. Being an Order member, despite its numerous headaches, does have distinct advantages as well. I am certain Dumbledore will need to take action now that you’ve been attacked directly. As for the rest, I will speak with the centaur if need be. I am sure he can understand the need for discretion, particularly if he is as good at Divination as you seem to think.” 

Draco straightened, teeth clenched with the effort. His breathing was harsher after the slight movement. “He seems to be in Dumbledore’s camp, though.” He protested. 

Snape sighed. “As do I. It means little. There are a variety of reasons why a person might align themselves with Dumbledore. I suspect Firenze simply wants to dissociate himself from the other centaurs who might be enticed to help the Death Eaters. They support magical purity, after all, and magical creatures’ interests align well with those of the Dark Lord’s followers.” 

“I hope you’re right.” Draco muttered, turning to look at the other group talking in the corner. “I’m certain Pucey wasn’t involved, if that makes things easier. He is terrible at Defense Against the Dark Arts, always has been. Also, he can’t duel worth shit. There is no way he would be able to perform that spell.” He paused, suddenly realizing for once he didn’t actually need to hide his source of information. “I’ve seen enough of his memories to know that his parents are very opposed to Death Eater ideals, as well. His older brother married a Muggle.” 

Snape nodded. “I suspected as much. I am convinced this is either Umbridge’s doing or your father’s. No one else interested in causing you pain has the resources to go after you so aggressively and intelligently. You’re very fortunate that Umbridge despises Lucius even more than she hates you. The prospect of their combined efforts to harm you would be alarming.” 

Draco hummed in agreement. His face turned contemplative, and Snape watched him closely. After a few minutes of silence, Draco spoke softly. “You know, after my father’s actions toward the Selwyns, my mother was so angry. She left the Manor for two weeks to stay with the Parkinsons, but it felt like months.” Memories flashed through Draco’s head, remembering times where he sat at the massive dining table in an empty home, knees drawn into his chest as the house elves fretted and offered him food. 

He remembered the sharp ache of loneliness, waiting for his mother to comeback, to remember he existed. The loneliness of a child is different from that of an adult. It is laced with fear, and the inability to understand the events that had caused it. Always, the child questioned. What was it that I did? Why don’t they love me? That empty loneliness, like he had experienced as a child, ate holes in a person that never really went away. It was impossible for Draco to pretend he hadn’t glimpsed his father’s true feelings about his son after the Selywn fiasco. It didn’t take any effort to recall the feeling, knowing for certain that his father could care less about Draco’s happiness. When Henry left the Manor began to feel more like a mausoleum than a home. Narcissa may have returned eventually, but from then on, the relations between the Malfoys always retained that distant, hollow feeling.

Shaking himself away from the raw thoughts, Draco murmured, “Umbridge may hate me and call me an enemy, but I can’t say that I see much difference between her actions and those of Lucius Malfoy.”   
The young blonde did his best to keep the pain from thinking of his former family out of his voice, but the echoes of neglect were still discernible to Snape. Severus was absolutely certain that, had Draco not been injured and drugged on medication, he would never be voicing these internal musings. “You should sleep.” Severus could think of nothing more to say, and perhaps there was no comfort to offer. Draco gave him a wan smile in return, seeming to understand. 

Severus waved his wand, removing the muffling spell, and stepped outside the barrier once more. He strode over to join the Slytherins, Pomfrey, and the Headmaster. Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled at Snape’s approach. “I believe it is time that you return to your dormitories, children. It is late.” Frowning but unable to argue with the Headmaster, the Slytherin students left. 

Snape was grateful he didn’t have any classes to teach in the morning. Rubbing his brow, he told Dumbledore, “Draco is under a great deal of strain, and something needs to be done to ensure that nothing like this happens again. It would be wise for someone to tutor him in diagnostic spells so he can detect any future attempts. At the very least, a private room will be necessary. Clearly the dormitories are unsafe for him.”

Dumbledore hmmed. “Yes, yes, I suppose you are right, Severus. But I do not think it would be wise to leave him alone, either. Perhaps a roommate, or someone staying next door?”   
The Potions Master considered it. “Might I suggest Charles Weasley? A student would never be able to counter a curse as sophisticated as the one we saw today, and I have no doubt that other professors would make Draco less cooperative.”

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Yes, I believe that would be a prudent choice. I will speak with Mr. Weasley in the morning and see what he thinks of the matter. I do believe he has a guest bedroom in his current accommodations. As for the matter of tutoring, perhaps Mr. Lupin could be of assistance, as our current Defense professor wouldn’t be the best option.” 

Snape quirked an eyebrow, keeping his sarcastic thoughts to himself. He was certain that Charlie would be more than happy to comply, given how much of a mother hen the Dragon Tamer seemed to be. Draco likely wouldn’t be too happy at Dumbledore’s manipulations via Lupin, but he would accept the benefits the spying would outweigh. “That seems acceptable.” He agreed. He opened his mouth to ask if they were through when the Headmaster cut him off. 

“What should be done with regards to Mr. Black’s resistance to healing potions?” The question took Severus by surprise. 

The Slytherin Head of House frowned. “I wasn’t aware that anything could be done, Albus. Do you have an idea on the matter?” 

Dumbledore looked pensive. “There is something tugging a memory, but I don’t quite recall where I have heard of a situation like this before. I am certain I have, but I can’t place the source.” He rose from his seated position, deep in thought. “I must do some reading to see if I can’t jog my recollection.” 

Pomfrey, who had been hovering over an exhausted Draco, looked up. “I’m afraid I will have to kick you out for the evening. It is late, and you’re keeping my patient awake.” 

Severus inwardly berated himself for assuming that Draco would listen to him and actually sleep, rather than eavesdropping. He gave Draco a sharp look but let it slide when he saw how woozy Draco looked. “Of course. I will return tomorrow to show Draco to his new sleeping quarters, once everything is arranged.” 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “You should remain here tomorrow, Mr. Black. Rest and recover, and don’t worry about going to class. I will inform the other professors that you are ill.” 

Draco narrowed his eyes, discontent but knowing better than to argue. Despite his exhaustion, he was determined not to fall asleep until he was alone. As the Headmaster and Professor Snape exited the hospital wing, Pomfrey began speaking to him. “Mr. Black—Draco,” she amended, clearly trying to evoke a more personal conversation, “I haven’t asked before, but in light of what has happened this evening, I feel I must. Are the other students giving you trouble? You’ve had so many injuries, so many scars. And your back, before—” 

Draco interrupted as soon as he knew where this was going. “I can handle it myself. Don’t make assumptions.” He brushed off her attempts to be helpful effortlessly. He had never trusted the staff at Hogwarts, except for the recent exception of Severus. They had all ignored the warning signs that Draco was in an emotionally abusive home, content to vilify him and turn up their noses at the scion of the “evil” family which was the Malfoys. For Merlin’s sake, even the Golden Boy himself was abused by his Muggle relatives every summer. If they allowed that to happen to the favorite, he could only imagine how low on the totem pole his problems were for the staff of Hogwarts. 

Draco was beginning to think that the wizarding world had a system-wide issue with protecting and safeguarding children’s safety and healthy development. The fact that Hogwarts and its staff pretended the school was a safe, nurturing environment made Draco want to vomit whenever he thought about it. At least schools like Durmstrang were honest about their (many) shortcomings rather than spouting self-righteous bullshit. 

Pomfrey tried again. “Draco, I know that you were always told that asking for help was weak, but—” 

Draco gritted his teeth. “We are done here.” He said tersely. His magic sparked, causing Pomfrey to quickly step outside the barrier. Draco wanted to turn away, but he was unwilling to put his back to her because he didn’t trust the Medi-Witch. 

Pursing her lips, Pomfrey moved away from the bed. “Please knock on my door if you need me for anything. I’m sorry this happened to you, Mr. Black.” 

As soon as the door closed behind her, Draco slumped back against the bed, limbs trembling from exhaustion. Despite the potions, his whole body ached and his head was swimming. Turning carefully onto his side, the young Slytherin closed his eyes and allowed himself to succumb to sleep. 

._________._________.____________.__________._____________.__________.___________.

When he awoke, light streamed through the curtains, indicating that it was late in the day. If anything, Draco felt worse than he had before sleeping. Lifting an arm in front of his face, Draco saw that the bruising all across his skin was darker and very noticeable. The precision of the winding, snake-like bruises almost looked like tattoos on his pale skin. 

Heaving himself into a sitting position with a wince, Draco glanced around the room. Pomfrey was nowhere in sight, but a small pile of books had been left by his bedside. Thank Merlin for small miracles, because he would have gotten bored very quickly if he was only to sit in a bed for hours. 

Flipping through the titles, Draco nearly rolled his eyes at the content. Detecting Dark Curses, Magical Traps and Runes, Diagnostic Spells for Beginners…clearly the Headmaster’s doing. Nonetheless, Draco was never one to turn down learning opportunities, so he began flipping through the diagnostic spell book. 

It was probably some time later, judging by the light from the window, when a visitor entered the wing. Glancing up, Draco met the startlingly green eyes of Theodore Nott. Smiling the slightest bit, Draco greeted his friend. “Hey, Theo.” 

Theo quirked a grin back at the blonde. “Hey, Drake. You’re looking cozy, skipping class and curled up with a book.” While Draco voiced his usual complaint at the nickname, Theo came closer and seated himself onto the bed, hip nudging Draco’s leg. “I’ve been asking around the dormitories, trying to figure out how the hex got on your bed.” He paused, meeting Draco’s flint-colored eyes. “Vincent had a hand in it.” 

A flash of something crossed Draco’s face, but it was too quick for Theo to categorize. “I see.” 

The Ice Prince of Slytherin is back, Theo thought humorlessly. “Probably not what you wanted to hear, I know. You’re right in thinking that Umbridge was behind this, but there isn’t any proof. Sorry, couldn’t be your knight in shining armor this time.” He winked at Draco. 

Draco could only sigh in return. While he couldn’t deny that he had been suspicious of Crabbe, he was saddened to hear that his old acquaintance had indeed been involved. “I appreciate it, Theo.” He nudged his friend’s hip with his knee. “Did any of those tossers from last term give you trouble so far?” 

Theo grimaced at the question. “Give me a break, Draco. I’ve been much more careful since then. As long as I’m cautious, I can always outsmart them.” With a twist of a grin, he added, “Obviously since they’re so homophobic, they can’t be that intelligent.” 

While Draco agreed, he was way more protective of Theo than his other friends because Theo stood up for himself less. “If you say so.” The blonde Slytherin responded slowly. His clear eyes met Theo’s emerald orbs. “Apparently, they’re moving me to my own room, away from the dormitories. Probably with Charlie. And teaching me diagnostic spells to detect curses.” Draco snorted. “A little late now, Umbridge isn’t dumb enough to try the same thing twice.” 

Theo smirked. “Ooh, living with a professor? How scandalous.” 

Draco rolled his eyes at Theo’s joke. “I don’t understand this school’s obsession with Charlie and me.” 

While Theo knew that Draco meant what he said, he also knew that Draco was emotionally unavailable and very stupid when it came to feelings. “In a few years when you’re married to the Weasley, I will smirk and say, ‘I told you so.’ I guarantee it. Whether you’re asexual or not remains to be seen, but you two have obvious chemistry.”

Draco just huffed in annoyance and didn’t respond to that. Theo patted his leg consolingly. “You’ll figure it out eventually. Anyways, I need to get out of here before anyone notices I’m missing. Hopefully the Headmaster will take your safety more seriously now. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else in the way of plots.” His eyes narrowed. “I should have caught wind of the first one. It won’t happen again from anyone in our house, I can guarantee it.” 

Draco absolutely believed him. Theo was brilliant and nothing if not effective at gathering information. “Thanks for coming by. Saved me from the boredom for at least little while.” He snarked, moving Theo’s mind away from the perceived failure. 

Theo nodded and left the room with a wave, disappearing as silently as he’d arrived. The boy really would make a great spy. Raising his book again, Draco continued reading. He made it through a few more chapters before the door swung open again, this time admitting an expected trio: Dumbledore, Charlie, and Remus Lupin. 

Carefully slipping a sheet of paper into the book to hold his place, Draco’s long fingers put the book aside, turning his attention to the older men. 

Dumbledore beamed at the sight of Draco reading the book but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he announced cheerfully, “Remus has found a charm to balance out your magic. There should be no need for the barrier spell after it is cast on you.” 

Draco’s eyes shifted sideways to Charlie, who nodded in affirmation. Knowing the spell was legitimate and not some manipulation, Draco verbalized his agreement. “Proceed.” He told Lupin tonelessly.   
The werewolf gave Draco a small, reassuring smile and cast the charm. Immediately Draco could sense the difference; his magic no longer crawled uncomfortably under his skin. Dumbledore removed the barrier spell, and a bit of tension released from Draco’s posture. 

Lupin pushed his wand back into his robes. “That okay? No numbness or fluctuations?” 

Draco shook his head. “It worked.” He said simply. “Am I free to leave now?” he wanted to know. 

Dumbledore was the one who answered. “Yes, Charlie here will take you to where you will be staying for now. Since you didn’t protest last night, I assume you are not opposed to these arrangements?”   
Draco resisted the urge to give a smart remark and just nodded in response. 

Charlie finally spoke up. “Good. I’m sure you’re bored stiff, so let’s get you out of here.” He moved toward Draco and reached an arm around the younger blonde’s back, attempting to help him stand.   
Draco winced slightly as the muscled arm pressed against the bruises but didn’t complain. As the two maneuvered Draco upright, Dumbledore spoke to them. “Tomorrow you should return to your classes as normal if possible, but after dinner for the next few weeks I would like you to meet with Remus for some tutoring on detecting hexes and magical traps, as Severus mentioned last night. And Mr. Black, please come visit my office if you have any further difficulties or attacks against your person.” 

Draco resisted the urge to sneer and instead nodded insincerely. Having said his peace, Dumbledore whisked himself out the door, humming an out-of-tune song as he went.   
Lupin, however, moved to Draco’s other side and offered his assistance. 

“I’m not an invalid,” Draco protested halfheartedly, but he didn’t jerk away from the werewolf. 

Relieved of some of the burden, Charlie leaned over Draco’s shoulder to inspect the bruising visible on his arm. “Shit, this looks nasty. Must’ve hurt.” He peered into Draco’s eyes, curious. 

“Obviously.” Draco bit out, a little grumpy from the pain moving caused throughout his limbs. “Dark curses are typically designed to hurt someone.” 

Ignoring the vitriol, the two former Gryffindors half-carried Draco out of the wing and toward where Charlie apparently was living. Draco focused less on the path they were talking and more on breathing, trying to shut out the pain as much as possible. He’d been bruised and banged up pretty severely before, but this was bone-deep bruising everywhere from collarbone to hips, and the rest of his body was sore from tensing and twitching during the seizure-like movements the spell had triggered. It wasn’t the worst pain he had suffered, but it did hurt considerably to move. 

The Seer was sweating noticeably by the time they arrived at Charlie’s rooms. Unlocking the door with a whispered spell, Remus and Charlie ushered Draco inside and onto the sofa. “Thanks for your help, Remus.” Charlie smiled at the werewolf. 

The easygoing man smiled back. “Happy to help. I hope you feel better soon, Draco. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow evening. I will meet you here, if Charlie doesn’t mind.” The amber gaze switched over to the redhead questioningly. 

Charlie gestured obligingly with his hands. “Feel free.” He responded cheerfully. The werewolf bade them both goodbye and exited the room, leaving Draco and Charlie on their own. 

“Make yourself at home and let me know if you need anything. I’ll get you a glass of water, hold on.” The Dragon Tamer disappeared into what appeared to be a small kitchenette, returning moments later with the water and handing it over to Draco. 

Taking a small sip, Draco folded his hands around the cup and sunk back into the cushions scattered about the sofa. “Thanks for this.” 

Charlie knew he was talking about more than the water, but only responded, “You’re welcome. Pleased to be of service.” Dropping onto the other side of the couch, he faced Draco. “The guest room is over there, and the house elves should be delivering your trunk soon. You’re welcome to use the kitchen, just clean up after yourself. Please let me know if you want to have your friends over or something.” He sounded uncertain, which was a bit endearing. 

Draco chuckled. “You sound nervous. I promise I’m not that high maintenance.” 

Charlie waved his hands, flustered. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long time since I’ve shared my space with someone, other than when I go back to my parents for holidays. At the reserve the accommodations are small, but remote and private. Any ground rules, things I need to know?”

Draco smirked. “Not that you would, but if you messed with my trunk, you’d get a nasty surprise. It’s heavily warded. I would recommend not touching it, even to move it. Hopefully the house elves don’t do anything but teleport it over.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, trying to bring to mind anything else Charlie might need to know. “You probably want to put a silencing spell up at night. I’m a restless sleeper to begin with and my visions can get pretty loud, depending on the content. Don’t be surprised if you hear me out here in the middle of the night wandering about, either. I’m a bit of an insomniac.” Shrugging, he added, “Just continue things how you normally do, and don’t mind me overmuch. I’m afraid I can’t handle this level of hovering forever.” The Slytherin gave Charlie a meaningful look. 

Chuckling, Charlie nodded. “Point taken. I promise I’ll give you your space.” He regarded Draco for a few moments. “Are you okay? Besides the obvious, I mean. You were attacked in a place you should feel safe, after all.” 

Draco snorted. “It didn’t surprise me. I would say I should’ve been more careful, but I doubt I would have detected the spell even if I did check before I laid down. At least these rooms are more warded from intrusion.” With a sigh, Draco finally spoke again. “I hate to ask, but Blaise is always nagging me to eat, and, well…” he trailed off significantly. 

Charlie understood without the spoken words. “It’s nearly evening, and you slept the day away, right? I’ll have a house elf bring something.” He walked into the kitchen and rang a little bell, causing a house elf to pop into the room. After requesting food for two, he returned to the living space. 

Draco quirked a brow. “Professors get special treatment, I see.” He teased the redhead. 

Charlie grinned. “Well, the pay is shit so the job better have some perks.” He agreed. “Not that being a Dragon Tamer is any better.” He added, amused. 

“For being mass produced, the food at Hogwarts is strangely tolerable.” Draco affirmed absently. A twinge of a headache hit him, and he rubbed his temples. 

Charlie didn’t miss the action, but he refrained from commenting. Instead, he brought up an unexpected topic. “Hey, Draco. We’ve talked before about how you knew that you had to do something to stop the Death Eaters from killing Cedric, but you never really mentioned why you felt like you had to.” 

Draco blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?” he asked, wanting a bit more clarification. 

Charlie intertwined his fingers and leaned forward onto his clasped hands, elbows resting on his knees. “Cedric wasn’t a friend of yours. You had nothing to do with the Death Eaters, and there would was no way it was your fault if Cedric had actually died. I know you said that your visions showed consequences for the wizarding world if you didn’t help, but was there any doubt in your mind? Did you consider doing nothing?” 

Draco frowned. “Of course I did. It was bred into me to think of myself first, and to choose the option that was most beneficial for my family name.” He gave the redhead a bitter smirk. “Behavioral conditioning, quasi- _Imperio_ and all.” Glaring at the ceiling, he finally said softly, “It…I don’t know, it’s a bit barmy really. It’s just…I really hate the way that things are. I always felt powerless, and this was a chance to at least change something, to have control over some small aspect of my life.” He shrugged. “Diggory was always a decent enough bloke, definitely more open-minded than most. It would’ve be a shame for him to die young.” His voice lowered. “Most of all, probably, I just couldn’t keep giving my family chances to screw me over. Self-preservation kicked in. There’s only so many times you can have hope, when it gets crushed over and over.” Draco gave his friend a self-deprecating smile. 

Charlie took a deep breath. “I don’t think people give you enough credit for being a stable and decent human being. The more I learn about your childhood, well, the more I want to hurt your parents.”   
Draco’s heart gave a twinge of something painful. “My feelings keep fluctuating like a teenage girl’s. One moment I’m incensed about the shit they put me through, the next I’m just a kid again, wanting for them to be proud of me, to show they care for once.” He sighed. “I think some part of me will be waiting forever, despite how stupid it is.”

Charlie shook his head in fond exasperation. “It’s definitely not stupid to want your parents to care about you, Draco. You just have shit luck and a twisted family.” They met each other’s eyes, gave each other small smiles. 

“Enough of this, though. Why don’t you tell me some of the embarrassing teenage adventures of Charlie Weasley.” Draco yawned and stretched out slowly, as painful as it was. 

He let the sound of Charlie’s voice lull him to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco woke up in pain, his limbs twitching from the remnants of a dream. With a harsh exhale, he pulled himself upright. Glancing around, he found himself sitting on a bed despite his distinct memory of falling asleep on the couch the night before. Charlie must have moved Draco to the guest room after he had fallen asleep. 

The thought was mildly concerning, considering that Draco was a very light sleeper. He checked the time and sighed when he found it to be three in the morning. Insomnia’s a bitch…

His legs wobbled minutely as he stood up, but at this point the constant pain was dull and insignificant compared to the earlier throbbing. Fetching some tea from his trunk, Draco wandered out of the room and into the kitchen. After turning the kettle on, the blonde Slytherin settled at the breakfast bar, blinking sleepily. As Draco glanced over his bruised arms absently, he frowned upon noticing that the knuckles of his left hand were scuffed and bloody, likely from his dream. 

Unconcerned, Draco reached for one of the mugs hanging nearby and dropped a chamomile teabag into it. Adding hot water from the kettle, he settled his hands around the warm mug, breathing in the steam and trying to allow his body to become lax. The young Slytherin could feel the tension, particularly between his shoulder blades, but somehow couldn’t seem to fully relax in order to eradicate it. He could only remember vague snatches of his dream, but it seemed like something ominous would be happening soon and it made him uneasy. 

_Fear._ Draco couldn’t deny what he was feeling at this point. He was certainly emotionally damaged, but fear had always been one emotion that was in his father’s interests to cultivate. If there was one feeling Draco could recognize, it was being afraid. He was frightened of his own magic most of all, but a myriad of other minor fears haunted him as well. Fear of never being normal, or of never being able to let his guard down. When you saw everyone’s dark secrets through a touch, it was difficult to trust anyone. Draco wouldn’t say that he was afraid of whomever had cast the curse in his dormitory, but he was afraid of dying. 

He took a sip of the warm tea, tapping his fingers on the counter distractedly. He didn’t feel empty, but he felt over full: brimming with coping mechanisms, detached assessments of people’s worth to him, and an inability to show any vulnerability except as a calculated means to gain trust. People learned how to get what they needed because you could never be sure you would get it if you didn’t take it yourself. Draco was certain that if he continued to spend time around Charlie, the Dragon Tamer’s Gryffindor tendencies would cause friction. There was a reason that the Slytherin students were isolated and mistrusted. There was a huge cultural gap, a schism in worldviews that was practically unbroachable. 

While there were of course exceptions, like Tracey Davis, most Slytherins were raised to see people as a means to some goal, not as inherently valuable. To a traditional Pureblood, people were worth only what they could bring to you, and the Malfoys were one of the most steadfast defenders of this principle. In an environment where one wrong choice means pain and injury, where being “weak” would end with a maimed best friend, Draco had been forced to spend his youth figuring out and trying to make the “right” choice, again and again. His problem as a child had been caring too much, and Lucius Malfoy had done his best to cull every hint of caring from Draco until all that was left was duty. 

While it hadn’t been entirely successful, Draco was well aware that he was damaged, that something about him was broken. 

More abhorrent than that fact, though, was the _looks_. The look on Poppy Pomfrey’s wrinkled face when she took in the scars splayed across Draco’s back. Dumbledore’s damn twinkling eyes as he tried to reassure Draco of something that Draco knew would never be true. Even Remus Lupin’s sympathetic hands as he practically carried Draco out of the hospital wing were like acid to Draco. Those gazes told Draco that people disapproved of the choices that Draco had made to survive. He knew what they expected of him, how they saw him: he was an anomaly, and all they could see was something that needed to be fixed. 

Problem was, Draco wasn’t so sure that it was possible. Draco had learned his lessons and learned them well. He was up to his neck in methods and plans to ensure he would make it through. He couldn’t change the way he was when that would lead to self-destruction, but that seemed to be what every non-Slytherin was asking him to do. 

Finishing off his cooling tea and rinsing out the cup, Draco’s silent footsteps took him into the small living space. Impulsively, Draco built up a fire in the hearth, suddenly wishing for the familiar feeling of sitting alongside the fire. When the blaze was steady, he dropped into the armchair there and curled up, staring out the charmed window at the blackness of the early morning. 

Wood popped and crackled as it burned, lending a cosy ambiance despite the darkness and the odd hour. The ethereal flicking of the fire cast against the shadowy room somehow lent a surreptitious feel. The night had always been Draco’s refuge, the only time he could ever feel even a modicum of safety when living in the Manor. Despite common belief, even the wicked needed rest. 

Thoughtlessly, Draco ran his fingers over the prominent veins crossing the back of his left hand, avoiding the scraped knuckles. He stayed seated there by the fire as the hours passed, simply enjoying the quiet chance to just be. 

Perhaps an hour after sunrise, Charlie emerged from his room, ginger hair all over the place. He paused at the sight of the fire and his eyes found Draco, who was still staring into the blaze calmly.   
Shuffling over, the redhead dropped onto the couch, still seeming half asleep. “Early riser?” Charlie mumbled questioningly. 

“Insomniac.” Draco corrected, steepling his fingers and turning to face his friend. His lips quirked up, a failed attempt at hiding a smile because of Charlie’s ridiculous hair.

Despite his bleariness, Charlie had always been good with emotions and easily read the amusement on Draco’s face. With a self-deprecating chuckle, he ran his fingers through his hair, only succeeding somewhat in flattening the wild mess. “Sorry, I’m not much of a morning person.” He apologized with a shameless grin. 

Draco shrugged. “No need to apologize. I’m the intruding houseguest, after all.” He stood up and moved to the kitchen, missing Charlie’s fond look. “Might I hazard a guess that you’re a morning coffee sort of man?” 

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up, and he sat up and peered over the couch to watch what Draco was doing. “Yes, how did you know?” 

With a completely straight face, Draco met Charlie’s eyes and managed to poke fun. “Anyone who walks around looking like that in the morning clearly needs coffee to function as a human.” At Charlie’s pout, he only smirked and added, “Do you take milk and sugar?” 

Charlie grumbled and flopped back onto the couch. “If you weren’t making me coffee, I would kick your ass. But whatever. Just milk, no sugar.” 

“I’m sure you would.” Draco agreed patronizingly as he stirred milk into one mug. He carried two mugs into the living room and handed the coffee with milk to Charlie, taking a black coffee for himself. 

Charlie scoffed. “I should’ve guessed you would take your coffee black. It matches your soul, you heartless –” he broke off as he sipped the coffee and blinked in surprise. “Damn, why is this so good?” 

Draco chuckled. “Because I didn’t use your shitty instant coffee, that’s why. Coming from old money has its perks.” He settled back into the armchair, making himself comfortable. 

Charlie sighed dramatically. “Sometimes you are such a prat. But as long as you keep giving me coffee, I’ll hold myself back. It’s a fair trade; I am pretty terrifying, you know.”

“*Et mon cul c'est du poulet.” Draco muttered sarcastically under his breath with an incredulous look toward Charlie. 

That jolt that he had felt the last time Draco spoke French travelled down Charlie’s spine, but he ignored it. “I don’t speak French but somehow I get the feeling you just insulted me.” 

Draco smirked. “That’s because you aren’t stupid, most of the time.” With that backhanded compliment, Draco turned his attention to the coffee, falling silent as he sipped it steadily. 

By that time Charlie had finished his first cup and went back for more, adding a small amount of milk. He watched Draco for a moment before came back to the living room, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the scraped knuckles clenched around the coffee cup. Striding back to the couch, he sat down and questioned, “Did you have dreams?”

Draco smiled mirthlessly. “I always do, lately. But nothing particularly horrible tonight, at least. Just restless somehow.” He rubbed his eyes wearily. “Being tired doesn’t always mean sleeping. Not to mention all that psychobabble about sleeping in new beds and all. Guess it’ll take my body some time to adjust.” He paused, grey eyes scanning Charlie’s face momentarily. “I told Severus about my Sight.”

Well, that came out of nowhere. “Did you? Well, that’s good, right? Since he’s working with Dumbledore, not the Death Eaters?” Charlie couldn’t quite get a read on Draco right now, unsure whether this was a positive or a negative thing. 

“It seemed okay at the time, but I’m regretting it a little now. I guess only time will tell.” Draco was staring into the fire again. After a few minutes he stood and moved into the kitchen to rinse the mug again. 

Charlie followed him to get a third cup, finishing off the last of the dregs. “I heard there will be a special announcement at breakfast today, so I suppose we should go. Don’t wait up on me, I’m slow in the mornings.” 

Draco nodded. “Sure.” With a wave, he disappeared into the guest room, presumably to clean up and prepare to leave.

Charlie washed the rest of the coffee supplies and disappeared into his room to do get ready for the day. 

Twenty minutes later found Draco in the Great Hall with Pansy on one side and Adrian Pucey on the other, Blaise staring Draco down from across the table to make sure he was properly eating. 

An amplified voice suddenly filled the Great Hall, a voice of one Delores Umbridge. “Due to a new decree from the Ministry of Magic, it has been decided that all students will undergo a mandatory Dark Arts aptitude test.” 

Murmurs spread throughout the Hall, and Draco’s heart froze in his chest. After a few _hems_ and _haws_ to stop the chattering, Umbridge continued, “Students found to have a high aptitude for certain aspects of the Dark Arts will be individually evaluated by Hogwarts staff and may undergo examination by a fully qualified Mind Healer if any practice of Dark Arts is detected. Rest assured, this is only intended to ensure that the young minds of the wizarding world are safe and free from corrupting influences. Aptitude does not equate to wrongdoing, so please do not be alarmed.” 

The Defence professor continued to speak, but Draco turned away in disgust. 

“Ten galleons that she only sends Slytherins to the Mind Healers.” Blaise muttered, shaking his head in irritation. “This is bullshit! And Dumbledore just lets this happen?” 

Draco smiled ironically at that, but it was a smile full of darkness. “Of course he did. It’s in his interests to find any Death Eaters in training, is it not? He’s just as against the Dark Arts as the Ministry is, even more so since he personally pushed for the creation of all these policies because of the last war’s outcome. A few instances of collateral damage won’t deter him. Umbridge wouldn’t dare go after anyone who is a good person, you understand.” 

Pansy growled. “She just said that we are taking these aptitude tests by House. Probably so the decent ones from the other houses don’t see how much they discriminate against Slytherins.” Lowering her voice, she added, “I haven’t practiced since I was first learning spells. Are you guys going to be okay?” 

Draco’s mouth drew into a tight line. “If this test really can detect Dark Magic, I’m probably in trouble. I’m sure that’s what Umbridge was after.” He admitted, not bothering to speak quietly. Most were well aware of just how extensive his trunk warding was, after all. Not to mention, the practice of Dark Arts was generally seen as something positive in Slytherin. Lowering his voice, he added, “Regardless, there is no way I’m letting anyone in my head, and I’m an Occlumens, so…not happening.” 

Blaise sighed. “Bad luck, mate. I should be okay, and I probably don’t have a high aptitude anyways.” He suddenly raised an eyebrow, as if struck by a sudden thought. “I wonder if Potter will get caught out. Wouldn’t that be interesting?” 

Greg leaned in. “It wouldn’t surprise me. He probably has a higher aptitude than all of us. It would be near impossible to be good at Defence if you have zero aptitude.” 

Umbridge finished prattling on around that time and Dumbledore stepped forward, again reassuring people that this was not a witch hunt. Except it was. “After breakfast, all students are to follow their heads of house to separate classrooms, where Ministry monitors will be present along with Hogwarts professors and a few volunteers from among the parents. You will then take the test, and classes will be cancelled for the rest of the day. I’m sure that after this exam, many of you will have questions. I want to remind you again that having an aptitude for the Dark Arts does not mean you are in trouble or somehow wrong. If there are students who want to discuss the results of this test more in depth, please speak with your Head of House or your parents.” The Headmaster continued speaking while the remainder of the students finished their breakfasts.

At Blaise’s pointed glance to his mostly full plate, Draco exasperatedly stuffed a piece of toast covered in lemon curd into his mouth before rising to follow Severus and his classmates out of the Hall. 

While the other houses were chattering away about the aptitude tests, the Slytherin students were largely grave and tense as they walked down the corridors. Draco was completely unsurprised to see Umbridge and Sirius Black both following after the Slytherin students. _A ministry watchdog and Dumbledore’s watchdog, just to make sure no one misses out._ Draco scoffed internally. Because that was subtle. Though, then again, probably only the Ravenclaws would notice. The Hufflepuffs were too naïve and the Gryffindors too trusting of authority. 

Sensing someone’s gaze on his back, Draco turned his head minutely to catch the emerald eyes of one Harry Potter. Scanning the Golden Boy’s expression, Draco was surprised to note the worry present. The Slytherin mentally filed that away for further examination later as the Slytherins split off from the Gryffindors and Potter went out of sight range. 

The Slytherins filed into an empty classroom and took a seat, still intensely quiet. Snape, Sirius Black, and Umbridge swept to the front of the classroom and looked out over the students. 

Severus had no expression, but the small crease between his eyebrows told Draco that he was stressed. “The aptitude test has three stages. You will be advised of the results of the test by this evening, after which you may or may not be required to discuss your results further with Hogwarts staff members. We will begin the first stage now. All students must submit their wand to examination at this point. You will line up by row in front of Mr. Black and Professor Umbridge, who will collect your wand, perform an analysis spell, and record the results. Is this clear?”

A chorus of affirmation drifted from the students grudgingly. Severus scanned the room quickly, mentally counting the rows to ensure he planned accordingly. “The back row should now go to Professor Umbridge, the second from the back to Mr. Black. Alternate and follow this sequence.” Draco was in the fourth row from the back. Per Snape’s instructions, he would go to Sirius. The Slytherins watched, on edge, as their housemates trudged to the front of the classroom and handed over their wands. As Draco observed, he noted that the spell caused the wands to turn three different colours: yellow, blue, or purple. Judging by whom each wand belonged to, he would guess blue meant near zero Dark Arts skill, yellow meant mild ability, and purple meant strong capacity. 

His guess was confirmed when he saw Vincent’s wand flare purple and Theo’s yellow from the first row to be tested, as well as noticing Tracey Davis’s wand glow blue in the second row. The Slytherin students had not uttered a word since leaving the Great Hall. As the third row and Draco’s row stood and shuffled down to the examiners, this silence continued. 

Draco watched as Greg, Pansy, and Blaise received purple, yellow, and blue respectively. As he drew nearer to Sirius, Draco could now see that the colours had varying shades as well: Greg’s yellow was more orange than Pansy’s, which was more golden. 

Draco extended his hand grasping the wand to Sirius, who met Draco’s eyes sombrely as he accepted it. The analysis spell was cast, and Draco unknowingly held his breath for a moment. 

But…

Nothing happened. Draco blinked in disbelief, meeting Sirius’s baffled gaze and shrugging his shoulders in puzzlement. Whispers spread throughout the formerly dead silent room as the other students paused to watch Sirius and Draco. 

Assuming it had been a mishap, Sirius cast the charm again, but the same result occurred: absolutely nothing. Once more, Sirius cast the charm with no outcome. By this time, Umbridge was looking furious, but before she could act Severus swept over. Taking Draco’s wand from Sirius, he cast the same charm, and this time the reaction was immediate: the space around Draco’s wand flared _black_. 

The silence resumed, even more charged than before. Severus pressed his lips together tightly before returning the wand and moving away from Sirius, avoiding Draco’s questioning eyes. Adrian Pucey, who was right behind Draco, froze in place for a moment before Sirius cleared his throat and beckoned Adrian forward. 

Expressionless, Draco returned to his seat. He felt Blaise lean into his side, wordlessly offering reassurance. Draco didn’t glance at Umbridge, but he could practically feel the smug, victorious satisfaction emanating from the professor across the room. 

The last few rows of Slytherins performed the wand test before returning to their desks. Once everyone was seated, Snape spoke again. “The second stage of the aptitude test is a casting test. You will not be casting any dark spells, but you will cast an _Incendio_ charm upon this artefact when told to cast. The result will be recorded, and the next student will be prompted to cast. We will once again start with the back row. Please come forward.” The Slytherin Head of House strode to the teacher’s desk at the centre of the room and placed a misshapen cube upon it: evidently the artefact. 

The task passed by in silence, much like the one before it. This time, there was no visible indication of results. When prompted by Severus, Draco cast _Incendio_ at the cube before returning to his desk. After all the students had completed this, Snape spoke once more. “The third stage of the aptitude test is a runic gauge. The rune will be pressed to your forearm and activated briefly, and the result will be recorded. After this has been confirmed, you are free to return to your dormitories.” 

This time as well there were no visible indicators of what function the rune measured or recorded. The students passed by, completed the task, and left the room. As Draco exited, he spotted Blaise, Greg, and Pansy waiting nearby. They traveled back to the Common Room together, still holding the silence out of caution. 

Dropping onto the sofas in a secluded corner of the Common Room, Pansy verbally pounced. “Merlin, Draco, this is not looking good for you. Your wand literally turned black. And you’ve been casting, we all know you have. What are we going to do?” 

Draco admittedly wasn’t too sure himself. He didn’t want to say it aloud, but in the past his family would have stopped this before Draco could be targeted. This time, there wasn’t anyone to shield him from the consequences. “There’s not really anything to be done, is there?” he asked, rather rhetorically. 

Just then, Millicent Bulstrode wandered over to their corner. Not waiting for a greeting, she dropped onto the sofa beside Blaise. “Mine was purple.” She admitted blandly, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table nonchalantly. “I was curious if you had a plan, seeing how Black here is the most screwed. Evidently not. Well, good thing I’m here, I suppose.” Twirling a lock of her mousy brown hair around her finger, she paused, clearly waiting for a response. 

Pansy rolled her eyes and obliged. “What is this brilliant plan of yours, Milli?” she questioned. 

Millicent tossed her head and grinned at Pansy. “How do you ladies feel about sex magic?” 

Blaise snorted. “And here I thought you actually had a plan. Getting laid isn’t going to make this go away, Bulstrode. Nice try though.”

Millicent held up her hands in protest. “Hear me out. My cousin specialises in sex magic, and she’s taught me a spell or two. I know of one which temporarily mimics the abilities of an Occlumens, and I just happened to overhear earlier that Draco possesses this rare ability.” Interlacing her fingers and leaning forward, the stocky girl continued, “I’ll teach you the spell if you use it on me.”

Draco glanced around at his housemates. Greg’s wand had flashed purple, and Draco knew Theo was in danger as well. If there was a chance of this spell working... “What is the energy cost?” he asked rather professionally, considering the topic. 

Millicent smirked. “Nothing too juicy, sadly. Since it’s a mental spell, it doesn’t get as physical as many of the other spells. Bodies touching, a kiss, and a temporary mental connection is all it takes, along with the spell.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at Millicent, then stepped close to Blaise. Quietly, too low for the others to hear, he murmured, “Find Theo and go to Snape’s classroom. After I finish here, I’ll meet you both there.” Blaise gave a sharp nod and left to find Theo. 

Turning back to Millicent, Draco crossed his arms over his chest authoritatively. “Show me the spell and we’ll cast it first.” 

Millicent demonstrated the wand movement and had Draco repeat the spell’s words three times before she was satisfied. “You’ve got it. Ready?” 

With a frown, Draco stepped forward into her space until they were scant inches apart. Although Millicent was stocky, Draco was already beginning to shoot up in height. Her head came about level with his chest. Millicent tilted her head up and their lips met in a brief touch as Draco cast the spell and allowed the magical connection to take root. 

Millicent stepped back as the spell settled. “Are you a Legilimens?” 

Draco considered this. “Never tried, so probably not the best idea.” 

She frowned. “Hmm. I suppose we will have to assume it worked, then.” With a wave, she disappeared into her dormitory room. 

Draco turned to Goyle, eyebrow quirked wordlessly. 

Looking a bit queasy, Greg stood. “No offence, mate, but let’s get this over with.” 

Rolling his eyes, Draco pulled his second wand from his sleeve and stepped in close. He repeated the spell, complete with fleeting lip-lock, made easy by the fact that Draco and Greg were roughly the same height. He turned to Pansy. “Pans? Your wand was yellow, so your call.” 

Smirking, Pansy moved toward Draco. “Might as well, just in case. Right?” She pressed herself against Draco, guiding his head down gently to meet her lips. 

For the third time in minutes, Draco performed the spell. As he stepped back, his vision fuzzed slightly. Dropping into a seat more heavily than normal, Draco rubbed his head. It was disconcerting to feel so many mental threads where he was only used to Viktor’s. Hopefully this wouldn’t screw up the blood bond. 

Greg and Pansy both sat as well, seeming to concentrate on the mental connection. Draco could feel them tentatively prodding their ends of the bond. “Stop poking at it,” he snapped, making them both jump guiltily. 

“You can feel that?” Pansy questioned, bewildered. 

“Yes, and it’s bloody annoying. I have four of these now, I think my brain is in shock.” Draco rubbed his temples, attempting to quell the ache. 

“Sorry.” Greg murmured, suitably chastised. “I suppose we should find Theo and Blaise now, wherever you sent them off to.” He stood, throwing Draco’s arm over his shoulders and helping him to his feet.

Shakily, Draco shrugged him off. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Snape’s classroom.” Turning to Pansy, he gave her a small smile. “Pans, could you go find what gossip you can scrounge up? See if there is any news about who’s in trouble from the other Houses.” 

With a grin and a saucy wink, Pansy agreed and disappeared into the crowd milling about the Common Room. Greg and Draco made their way to the Potions classroom slowly but steadily. 

Blaise and Theo were waiting inside. Theo smirked at Draco. “So, what’s this I hear about having to make out with Draco?” the dark-haired boy chuckled. 

Draco sighed. “You sound much too thrilled about this.” He stepped close to Theo, silver wand clutched loosely in his hand. 

Theo snickered. “Might as well take advantage while I can. Even if you’re not my type, it’s not every day I get to snog a pretty bloke like you.” Unsurprisingly, as they performed the spell Theo took a great deal more liberties than the previous Slytherins did, to the extent of grabbing a handful of Draco’s arse. 

After the spell was finished, Draco stepped back and smacked Theo’s hands away in exasperation. “No shame, this one.” 

Theo smirked and brazenly licked his lips. “I can now confirm that, despite conflicting rumours of Draco being a sex god and Draco being asexual, the rumoured talent is there.” 

Draco began to shake his head in disapproval but paused with a wince when the movement intensified his blurred vision. “Hmm. That is…not pleasant.” He wavered on his feet and Blaise caught his arm quickly, guiding him to a seat. “We should go to Snape’s office. He’ll want to speak with me.” He made as if to stand, but Blaise shoved him back down. 

“Snape will be busy for ages, tied up with the aptitude exams. I’m sure he will let you know when he has time to help you save our skins. Right now, you need to relax for a minute before you fall over. You just performed four taxing spells consecutively, give yourself a break.” Blaise was frowning again. 

Draco badly needed to talk with Charlie. There was an unsettling feeling that had been plaguing him throughout the day, a direct result of the disorienting dreams he’d been having lately. With the sudden prompting for an aptitude test, clearly the Ministry was involved in something. Yet, Death Eaters were barely a threat now, with Voldemort’s weakened body and Pettigrew being some the last few remaining, the rest arrested or, presumably, scattered and hiding. 

So why was the Ministry acting rashly? A bureaucracy did not take initiative; it acted slowly and methodically in response to perceived threats. Something was afoot, something or someone prompting quicker action from the inside. And, even more worryingly, Lucius Malfoy had been rather silent in the Wizarding World as of late…

Perhaps Draco was being paranoid, but something felt off. 

Theo snapped him out of his thoughts. “Should we be worried, Drake? I mean, who knows if Millicent’s bullshit spell will actually make a difference.”

Draco sighed. “The whole thing is troublesome, but they can’t legally do anything. We don’t have Dark Marks like some of the upper year students.” He pressed his lips together, reluctant to voice his worry but feeling like he needed to. “It’s just…something seems wrong about this whole thing. It was way too sudden. If this were a chess game, I would suspect it was a diversionary tactic, and that makes me nervous.” 

Blaise voiced his agreement. “It doesn’t sit well with me either. Something must be happening in the Ministry to cause this, and nothing ever happens in the Ministry.” 

Theo chortled. “Sadly true. I get where you two are coming from, really, but there’s nothing we can really do about it right now. No point in worrying, it’s a waste of energy.” He clapped Draco on the shoulder affably but brushed Draco’s neck when withdrawing his hand. 

A series of Flashes, nothing Draco hadn’t seen before. Moving his head to the side slightly to test his vision, Draco stood. “Let’s go back to the Common Room, at least.” Inwardly Draco wondered if he would be able to sneak a nap in; perhaps he would see something useful this time. 

The three housemates methodically made their way back to the Slytherin dormitories, entering the portrait after Blaise murmured the password. When Theo made to head in a different direction, Draco grabbed his sleeve. “The others probably wouldn’t think it odd if you stayed around us, with the current climate how it is. Slytherins play both sides and all.” Theo considered it and nodded in agreement, following Blaise over to the corner where Pansy and Greg were waiting. 

“Pucey and Greengrass were sniffing around earlier looking for you.” Pansy reported with a sardonic smile. “Seems they wanted to know what was happening, and after your display in the testing, every Slytherin can see that you’re at the centre of this.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Pucey I expected, but Greengrass should know better. You don’t get information when you’ve turned down an alliance point-blank.”

Theo chortled. “Well, she is a bitch with no shame. I’m not surprised. What did you tell them, Pans? ‘Get lost?’” 

Greg sighed. “Practically. She indirectly told Pucey we could discuss terms if he wanted an alliance, but then he scurried off. Probably had to consult mommy and daddy. Greengrass just flounced off in a huff.” 

Blaise grinned wryly. “Too bad I missed that. Even if she’s a terrible human being with poor decision-making skills, she’s still hot. Especially when she’s angry.” 

Pansy thwacked him on the head in exasperation. “Gross, you should know better.” Her face suddenly turned mischievous. “Besides, we all know that you, like Drake, have a thing for redheads.” 

Draco’s “don’t call me that” was drowned out by Blaise’s vehement protests. “Girl-Weasley is hot, sure. But that doesn’t mean I have a thing for her!” 

Theo waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Even if you did, she helped Draco out last time, and she seems pretty cool, for a girl anyways. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” 

Greg sighed again. “I’m glad someone here can be reasonable. You might as well give it a shot in a year or so, when she’s of age. You and Tracey didn’t work out, and I doubt you’re going to start dating Pansy or Millicent. The rest are airheads or Death Eaters, neither of which you want to associate with.” 

Pansy nodded in agreement. “Precisely. Now, on to more important matters, such as the fact that even Professor Snape didn’t know this test was happening. That’s suspicious, no?” 

Draco couldn’t prevent the small smile that took over his face. “You’ve all noticed. I knew there was a reason I kept you around, rather than the other idiots.” 

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Well, that was condescending. Love you too, bastard.”

Theo just laughed. “You know he’s emotionally constipated, Blaise. You’ll have to forgive his inability to deliver a sincere compliment.” 

Rolling his eyes, Draco stood. “Fuck you all. My brain is all over the place with these mental bonds, I’m going to try and catch some sleep. Pans, Theo can fill you in.” Draco moved to exit the Common Room and return to his shared accommodation. Blaise followed wordlessly, determined not to leave Draco alone. 

When they made it to Charlie’s rooms, Draco swung open the door and waved goodbye to Blaise. 

Charlie glanced up as Draco entered. “Hey, Draco.” He called, setting aside a book he had apparently been perusing. “Everything okay?” 

Such a simple question about an incredibly complex matter. Draco sighed, pulling his robes from his shoulders and hanging them on the hook by the door. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard the gossip. My wand flared black. On the plus side, I’m an Occlumens, so at least they can’t just force me when I refuse to cooperate.” 

Charlie got to his feet and strode over to Draco, taking in his drained appearance. “Shit, what did you do this time?” He leaned against the wall opposite Draco casually, sipping from a mug of tea. 

Draco snorted. “Sex magic.” He answered bluntly, causing Charlie to choke and cough on his tea. Amused at Charlie’s spluttering, Draco inspected his nails calmly and explained. “Temporary mental spell to block Legilimancy, nothing too energy-strenuous. I just had to perform it several times, so yes, I’m a bit knackered. Going for a kip now, actually.” He slid past Charlie and began to move toward the spare bedroom he’d slept in last night, but he was stopped by a calloused palm gripping his elbow. 

“I am a professor here, Draco! You can’t just say things like that all nonchalantly and expect me to disregard it.” Charlie looked incredulous, as if he couldn’t quite believe that he was having this conversation. 

Draco smirked. “Seriously, relax, Charlie. Most every student has done it a time or two, and in this case my reasons were good. You asked, and I have no reason to lie. Anyways, what happened to the resolution to lay off the mother-hen role?” 

Charlie sighed, and sipped his tea again, releasing Draco’s elbow. “They are your choices, I suppose.” His blue eyes ran over Draco’s features again, and he deflated slightly. “Go, sleep. We can talk about this later.” 

With only a smirk in response, Draco disappeared into the guest room. Dropping into the bed, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Surprisingly, sleep came easy. 

______________________________

When he awoke, Draco glanced around sleepily for a few moments before he remembered where he was. Sitting up, he blearily rubbed his eyes, a massive yawn escaping. 

While he felt disoriented, astoundingly there had been no dreams whatsoever, not even the unclear bits he was normally graced by. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Draco cast a quick _Tempus_ spell as he went and finding that it was now late afternoon. After making sure his appearance was in order (namely, fixing his slight bedhead) he shuffled back into the living area. 

Charlie was again slouched back against the couch, book in hand. Draco cleared his throat meaningfully, not wanting to startle the redhead. Somehow, he managed to anyways as Charlie jumped slightly as he looked up. “Draco, you’re awake.” Charlie managed. 

Moving closer and dropping into the chair he’d occupied earlier in the morning, Draco nodded. “It seems so.” He agreed smoothly. 

Charlie glanced at the clock over the mantel. “Are you hungry?” 

Draco made a face. “No, but I suppose I should eat anyway. Do you want anything?”

The Dragon Tamer shook his head. “No, I ate earlier. Go ahead.” 

Draco stood and made his way to the kitchen. In quick succession, he rung the bell, spoke with the house elf, and carried the produced food to the breakfast bar, swiveling the stool sideways so he could eat his food and face the living room at the same time. “You wanted to talk?” 

Charlie rubbed between his eyebrows, momentarily setting the book aside once more. “I’ll get straight to the point. This assessment came out of nowhere, even to Dumbledore. Someone’s pulling strings in the Ministry, and my brother Percy knows something about it, judging by the smug tone of his Owls lately. I’m sure my mum has told Dumbledore that, and they’ll do their best to get information out of Percy. It won’t work.”

Draco shoved food into his mouth, chewed mechanically, and swallowed. “Why is that?” he questioned. 

Charlie sighed. “It’s no secret that Percy doesn’t get on well with most of my family. Fred and George, especially. My parents are simple people and raised us all to be happy with simple things. Percy always wanted more, always had ambition for greater things. He wanted personal recognition. Percy may be different from the rest of us Weasleys in that way, but he’s a Weasley in most everything else, particularly mule-headedness. He won’t compromise what he sees as valuable just because people ask him to.” 

Draco read between the lines. “You think he might listen to you.”

Charlie blinked, surprised. “Actually, I was thinking he might listen to you. Percy never had a grudge against me, but I didn’t exactly stick up for him, even if I felt some sympathy. I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten that. But you, he might speak with. He knows you aren’t a Death Eater after last year. In fact, you’re in a unique position, and one Percy would be envious of: most of my family supported you, yet you have drastically different values and ambitions. Percy has his pride, but I can’t help but think he must be hurt by the things that happened. He said some of the things you did, actually. That Dumbledore was trouble and anyone who followed him blindly was an idiot. You can imagine, my parents didn’t take to that very well.” Charlie ran a hand through his hair. “Perhaps if you can get him to help, he might be able to mend things with my siblings, at least. Fred and George like you, and they’d listen if you spoke up for him.” 

Draco continued to eat as he thought. “It’s worth a try, I suppose. When the ‘light’ side uses people as pawns and the ‘dark’ side kills indiscriminately, I hardly blame him for trying to see what the Ministry can do. It’s too bad that the Ministry is largely controlled by my father. Regardless, I’ll send him an Owl tomorrow to see if he would be interested in a meeting. I’d like to talk to Severus first, to try and get a handle on the current situation.” Scooping the last of the food into his mouth, Draco cast Scourgify on the dishes, stacking them neatly on the counter. He turned around and wandered back over to the lounge chair, plopping down into it carelessly. 

Charlie gave him a fond smile. “How did you get Fred and George on your side, anyways? I mean, at first they were helping because I asked them to, but now they seem genuinely fond of you.” 

Draco interlaced his fingers thoughtfully. “I imagine their regard for me is similar to their penchant for Potter: I don’t treat them like a unit rather than two people.”

Charlie cocked his head, confused. “What do you mean?” 

Draco snorted. “How often do you say Fred and George, rather than just Fred, or just George?” he asked rhetorically. “Most people tend to group George and Fred together, rather than seeing their unique points. They’ve also been switching places seamlessly for years without your parents and many others noticing. Neither one will admit it, of course, but they are hurt by that. George particularly. As far as I’m aware, only Ginevra, Lee Jordan, Potter, and I have never mixed them up.” 

Charlie straightened in his seat abruptly, shocked. “Even I’ve mixed them up? Oh, Merlin.”

Draco shrugged. “To be fair, only when they were actively deceiving you. Times like those, it’s a prank more than an affront to them. They don’t hold it against you. Furthermore, I would be the first to admit that I have a considerable advantage, considering their voices are different colours.” 

Charlie rested his chin on his folded hands, grinning at Draco. “Tell me more. The colours are fascinating.”

Draco couldn’t help the small smile. It was nice that someone was interested, so he obliged. “George’s voice is teal, a mixture of blue and green. As far as I can tell, it means he’s free-spirited, silver-tongued, humorous, and patient. It combines the outgoing, social aspects of green with the emotional, responsible parts of blue. Completely different from Fred. His is brown, less emotional and more aggressive. Brown indicates cleverness and persistence. The extroversion and sense of humour are about the only thing they have in common, personality-wise. Fred is much more pragmatic, natural, and charismatic. George is more patient but can be a bit of a drama queen. For comparison’s sake, Theo’s voice is a similar shade to George’s, just greener. Ron’s voice is purple, close to Pansy’s. Purple voices tend to deepen into burgundy as people grow older and mature. Voices in purple indicate loyalty and determination, but also take on a bit of the shallow self-centeredness from pink. It can actually signify a quick temper that swings from hot to cold rapidly, as well.” 

Charlie sighed and rubbed his face. “That’s amazing, truly. You seem to know my brothers better than I do.” He was sincere, but there was also a hint of bitterness there. 

Draco shrugged. “You forget that I’ve seen their memories. Some things are hard to say out loud, and even harder to talk about with family. I have a free pass to see a person’s innermost thoughts and insecurities, which they might not share by choice otherwise.”

Charlie nodded, trying to recover the previous jovial mood. “Yeah, you’re right.” He managed a smile. “Do Harry and Hermione next.” 

The blonde wizard made a face. “I’ll pass. Neither one is my type.” 

Charlie was taken aback for a brief, awkward moment before he burst into laughter. “What the hell, Draco?” he managed between giggles. “Aren’t you a little young for sexual jokes?”

Sharp silver eyes pinned him in place by the heavy weight of the gaze. “I’m hardly innocent. Surely you’ve heard that when Slytherins come of age, there’s a massive orgy in our Common Room. I thought that was common knowledge.” Draco said very matter-of-factly. 

Charlie gaped at him, and a strange, raw flutter reverberated through his chest. “Wait, _what_? Seriously? That’s…” he trailed off, face pinking in embarrassment. 

A burst of laughter escaped Draco’s lips as he raised his eyebrows mockingly. “I’m joking, Char. That would be ridiculous, and, quite frankly, disturbing. That is an actual rumour that circulates, however.” 

Charlie buried his red face in his hands. “Merlin, Draco, don’t do that to me! It’s too hard to tell when you’re joking. I’m eight years older than you and even I haven’t….” Realising that that direction this conversation was taking probably divulged _too much information_ about his [lack of] orgy experience, Charlie cut himself off, face burning even hotter. “I’m going to shut the fuck up now.” 

The sound of Draco’s carefree mirth filled the room, rich and melodious. “Merde, Charlie, your face is as red as your hair. Relax, I’m just teasing. You seemed like you needed a good laugh, don’t take it too seriously.” Deciding to take pity on his friend, Draco looked away to give Charlie time to recover himself and changed the subject. “Potter’s voice is a dull sort of blue, the shade you might see on your grandmother’s couch or curtains. Fairly unique as far as colours go, it shows he’s emotional and sensitive, like George, but also determined, kind, and hardworking. The pleasant, emotive side is probably why I find him so bloody irritating. Granger, on the other hand, is a fairly standard Ravenclaw voice: yellow. That represents a driven, intellectual, and honourable introvert. The brighter the yellow, the more socially awkward. Granger’s is above average for her age, so the closest match to the exact shade is Professor McGonagall.” Chancing a glance, Draco found that the Dragon Tamer had mostly managed to calm himself down, though the redhead’s cheeks were still pink with mortification. A little more, then. “Your sister Ginny has a blue voice too, but it’s much brighter than Potter’s; the colour of the sky. Generally, the more vibrant the tones, the more the personality traits are variable. Over time, Voice colours tend to deepen or sort of…well, sparkle, like gemstones. So, Ginevra is less stable in her identity than Potter, but equally empathetic, hardworking, and determined.” 

Charlie was finally able to formulate a response. “A lot of Divination centres around matchmaking these days. Do similar colours have anything to do with compatibility, do you think?” 

Draco smiled sardonically. “Afraid of Ginevra’s hero-worship crush on Potter? For the most part, I would say no. Each case is different, really, but for Ginny and Potter, I can’t see anything happening. Too many unrealistic expectations on either side. Potter’s too indulgent to handle her, and Ginevra doesn’t see Potter as he is. She would argue, and he wouldn’t push back. She’d probably be much happier with a textbook Slytherin, actually. Someone who would value her yet have no compunction to disagree when necessary. A particular someone comes to mind, but I don’t want you to smother them with your mother-hen, big-brother over-protectiveness, so I’ll keep that to myself.” 

Charlie rolled his eyes, unwilling to admit his curiosity. “Well, if your plans to become a mind-healer don’t work out, you could certainly consult in love fortunes as a backup.” Draco looked horrified at the thought, and Charlie laughed. It was nice, sharing space and easy conversation with a friend like this. While Dragon Tamers were a close, insular group, there was also a great deal of isolation involved in the job. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this comfortable when he wasn’t with his own family. 

After some time, Draco broke the relaxed silence. “Did Lupin give you a specific time? I imagine he’ll be around soon, no?” 

Charlie glanced at the clock on the fireplace. “Damn, I’d nearly forgotten. Yeah, he said evening, so he should be here anytime now.” He stood, stretching out his shoulders and arms. “I’ll jump into the shower for a few. Could you flip on the kettle?” 

Unfolding his legs from where they were tucked beneath him, Draco stood up gracefully. “Of course.” He made his way into the kitchen as Charlie disappeared into his bedroom. As the redhead had requested, Draco switched on the kettle. With a yawn, Draco slunk back over to the sofa and sprawled out, moving Charlie’s book aside. The masculine scent of dragonhide and coffee left behind was pleasant, and the quiet of the room was soothing. Draco, despite his nap, could still feel the exhaustion affecting his body. The warmth, pleasing smell, and post-food sluggishness combined amplified his sleepiness. Allowing the tension to flow from his limbs, Draco’s eyes slid closed, but his brain continued to work in overdrive. 

He couldn’t quite put aside the thought that he was missing something important, forgetting a crucial part of the puzzle that would shed some light on his current confusion. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Draco wanted to think that the excruciating headaches had ceased because something important was about to happen, and his continuing to function was necessary. 

A knock on the door caused his eyes to flutter open. Rising and moving toward the door, Draco swung it open. “Hello.” He greeted simply, stepping back to allow space. “Please come in.” 

Remus Lupin politely did as he was bid. “Thank you.” He placed his robes on a hook by the door. 

“Would you like tea?” Draco questioned as he wandered into the kitchen to fetch a cup for himself. 

“That would be lovely. Thank you, Draco.” Remus moved into the living space, accepting a cup from Draco gratefully moments later.

The rest of the evening was productive, but rather awkward. Charlie stayed out of the way for the most part, only coming to the kitchen once or twice in order to observe briefly and ensure things were proceeding smoothly. 

Remus Lupin was a good teacher, and certainly knowledgeable about a variety of spells. Draco was focused and attentive, which assisted him in learning more quickly than the average student. However, there was a tangible something in the air, a subtle mistrust on either side that made interactions strained. 

In the middle of explaining a detection spell, Remus abruptly paused and looked away from Draco, fiddling with his hands. “Draco, I—” he broke off, hesitating. “It’s about the aptitude tests. Dumbledore made Professor Snape promise not to divulge any information to you, but I think you have the right to know. Five students are being summoned from your year for further questioning and testing, and three of them are Slytherins. You are one of the three, and your friend Miss Parkinson is another.” 

Draco hummed, face expressionless. “I assume Theodore Nott is likely the third Slytherin. Potter is likely being summoned as well, what with all the rumours about his wand. The fifth?”   
Lupin sighed. “I suppose you’ll find out soon anyways. Neville Longbottom, the poor boy. There were others with concerning results, but Professor Umbridge vehemently insisted we investigate this particular group of students first.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “That’s along the lines of what I suspected, though Longbottom is certainly a surprise. I thought they’d take Goyle over Pansy, but I guess his father must have been owed some favours by the Ministry.” Cutting off his own harsh words, Draco’s sharp grey eyes met Remus Lupin’s amber. “Why are you telling me this, though? I doubt it’s motivated by feelings of empathy.”   
Remus exhaled sharply but didn’t protest. “Despite what you think, Draco, not everyone agrees with the way things are done at Hogwarts. Dumbledore is doing his best, but the Ministry has more power now than they did in the past. I know you have said that Delores is targeting you specifically, so I want you to be prepared as much as you can. Her actions seem to uphold your claim.” 

Draco snorted derisively. “Oh, I see. So, you lot were incompetent, and now you can’t protect the students from any abuses of power by the Ministry. Despite the fact that I warned you that I was in danger, and the fact that I’ve spent the majority of my last two terms in the Hospital Wing, no one took me seriously because I’m not the Golden Boy, Saint Potter. Is that about right?” At Lupin’s wince, Draco kept going. “I tried to take a term away but was rejected, because _Dumbledore_ knows best. I was attacked in my own dormitory, but I still went along with _Dumbledore’s_ suggestions: I moved rooms, away from my housemates, some of the few people that I trust, and I’m living with a professor. And now you’re telling me that Dumbledore _still_ can’t protect me.” Shooting to his feet, indignation written across every pore, Draco barked. “Don’t you think I’ve realised that by now? Is that not what I’ve been saying since the beginning? But now you fuckers believe me. Now, when it’s conveniently too late to do anything actually USEFUL!” Furious, and without thought, Draco flung his mug at the wall. It shattered in a cacophony of sound, punctuated only by Draco’s harsh, angry breathing. “Putain de merde.” The words were soft, deceptively so considering the cold rage contained within them. 

Charlie was in sight range seconds later, taking in the scene: the broken mug, Draco’s fierce rigidity, and Remus’s apologetic expression. Immediately he switched to disaster management in the only way he knew how. His immediate reflex was to try and calm Draco, but he suppressed it ruthlessly. A young dragon’s pride was not something to trifle with. Instead, Charlie met Remus’s eyes over Draco’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should leave.” He suggested, voice hypnotically calm. Remove the enemy from the dragon’s territory, lest the aggression continue to persist. 

Giving a jerky nod, Lupin stood and gathered his things. “It seems that would be for the best. Let me know if you need anything.” Moving toward the door, he pulled on his robes from the hook. Charlie followed, and once they were out of Draco’s hearing range, he murmured softly, “I’ll get the full story from Draco, but he isn’t the type to get angry easily. I can say that you’ll have to work tirelessly to earn your way back into his good graces, so I don’t envy you.”

Remus sighed tiredly. “I’m afraid I’m only the messenger this time, really. I hope you can help sort this out; he seems to trust you at any rate. Good luck. Please let me know later if you’d like me to return tomorrow or not.” He disappeared out the door. 

Taking a deep breath, Charlie turned back to the living area to face Draco. Next, give the dragon time to release the aggression, before checking for damage or injury. Instead of comforting Draco, Charlie instead turned to the broken mug and the splatter of tea on the wall. With a quick _Reparo_ and then a _Scourgify_ spell, the mug was whole and the wall relatively white and smooth again. Returning the repaired mug along with Professor Lupin’s to the kitchen, Charlie rinsed the dishware and returned it to the appropriate cupboard. 

A quick glance, an appraisal of the dragon’s level of hostility. Finding it much reduced, Charlie carefully made his way back toward where Draco stood, motionless except for his short breaths. He said nothing, but cautiously approached, ever-so-slowly coming to rest his hands on Draco’s shoulders and looking him directly in the eyes. They stayed like that for several long moments, just breathing. Charlie did his best to project calm, waiting for a signal that Draco was ready to talk. 

A number of minutes later, that sign finally came. Draco’s stiff shoulders dropped in resignation, and his eyes, while still furious, were also regretful. “Sorry I broke the mug.” He mumbled, lifting one hand to rub his forehead tiredly. “I was just so angry.” 

Gently, Charlie guided the younger Slytherin down to sit on the couch. He promptly settled right beside him, so close they were touching. “I know, don’t worry about it. No harm done.” He couldn’t ask _are you alright_ without sparking more anger, so instead, he questioned, “What did he say?” A heavy sigh reverberated through the slight frame beside him. 

“If I talk about it now, I’ll probably start throwing things again.” Draco admitted, eyes narrowed and mouth pressed into a tight line. 

Charlie nodded and changed the subject. “Okay. Why don’t you tell me more about your summer in Muggle London instead? Was it difficult to adjust and get used to all the Muggle things?” As they spoke, Charlie offered more prompting questions, steering the conversation. The light subject and shared body heat allowed Draco’s body to slowly unclench and relax, anger seeping away. 

It must have been at least an hour later before Draco moved away, retreating to the familiar armchair he seemed to have claimed as his own. Charlie watched him go, trying to read what was going on in that blonde head. 

Draco pulled his legs underneath him and twisted sideways in the chair slightly, making himself comfortable. “Lupin informed me that I’ll be summoned to Umbridge’s office because of my aptitude test results. He also added rather casually that Dumbledore cannot do anything to help the students who get called in under these circumstances. She’s obviously targeting me, I told them as much, and they still will do nothing. After all that blether about me needing someone to help, when I actually require help, they do nothing. Yet, they still have the nerve to be preachy with me, despite using even Saint Potter as a pawn on a chessboard. Forget it! Dumbledore can go fuck himself.”

Charlie’s brow furrowed. “I can’t say I disagree in this instance. But Remus seemed to feel guilty; you might be able to sway Sirius, get out of here before she can do too much damage.” 

Draco smiled wryly. “If I was thinking rationally, I probably would have considered that. We’ll make a Slytherin out of you yet. Yes, okay. After I speak with Sev, Black is next. Then your ambitious brother. But right now? I suggest you go back to whatever you were doing. I’m sure I will appreciate your patience and understanding later, but right now it’s just grating. My drama meter is full and I need to destroy some shit.” He stood, grabbed his silver lime wood wand, and went to the door. “I’ll be in the Room of Requirement.” Draco disappeared through the door, taking care not to slam it behind him. 

Charlie watched him go before sighing deeply. “What a mess.” He expected that Draco was unlikely to return until he was asleep. Flopping back against the sofa, Charlie stared at the ceiling blankly. “Why do I get the feeling that it’s all downhill from here?” There was, of course, no answer. Only a lingering, ominous feeling. 

_Fuck it, I’m going to bed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** French phrase: “Et mon cul c'est du poulet” = And my ass is made of chicken. Basically, a sardonic comment that boils down to mean “you are talking bullshit, so shut up now.”  
>  All other French in this chapter is swear words. **


	5. Chapter 5

_~ Interlude ~_

With his back plastered to the sweet-smelling grass, the sky before Draco’s eyes seemed infinite. 

It was one of those hours of the day that was simply magical during summer: the humming sounds of insects echoed from the woods, the air was humid but cooling, and the sun was beginning to dim overhead as it set. 

Truly, it was the perfect end to a perfect day. It was too bad that, from tomorrow, things would change.

“Do you really have to leave tomorrow?” Nine-year-old Draco Malfoy glanced sideways, pleadingly meeting the emerald-green eyes of his best friend, Henry Selwyn. 

Henry laughed at the adorable, puppy-eyed expression. “Come on, Drake. I’ll be back before you know it. As much as I wish I could, I can’t just skip school and stay here all the time, I do have to go to school. Besides, you’ll be at Hogwarts in no time.”

Draco pouted, watching the green tint drift into the sky from Henry’s Voice. “I know, stupid.” Shoving his hands beneath his head, he turned to face Henry. “Tell me again about Hogwarts? What’s being a First Year like?” 

Henry laughed, turning to face Draco as well. “Haven’t I already told you this like, ten times?” Nonetheless, he obligingly began, “Ravenclaw is the best house, I don’t care what our parents say. Ravenclaws can focus on learning, no need for all the silly posturing and politics that Slytherins must do. The Common Room is amazing, full of books and reading nooks, and it’s so quiet. Perfect for studying! The older students and the students who graduated leave notes there, even about their own personal research. Most of it is way too advanced for me now, but I can’t wait until I can practice some of the spells.” 

Draco’s wistful gaze was strong as he listened. “I wish I was going to Hogwarts with you.” He sighed, plucking grass in both of his fists absent-mindedly. “Maybe then I can finally get away from Father.” 

Henry gave Draco a sympathetic look. “I wish you were coming, too. But really, Draco, your father isn’t so bad. I wish you wouldn’t argue with him so much, it only ends badly for you. He just wants what’s best for you, right?” 

Draco snorted in response, eyes suddenly bleak. “No, he just wants what’s best for the House of Malfoy. He could care less what I want.”

Henry shrugged neutrally in response, before breaking into a grin and digging his elbow into Draco's side. “Good thing you’re such a mama’s boy then, isn’t it?” 

Draco stuck out his tongue at his friend but didn’t deny it. “Your parents are way better. They let you get away with everything.”

A dark look crossed Henry’s face, but Draco was thankfully looking elsewhere. “Yeah, they are pretty relaxed.” He agreed nonchalantly. Standing up, he reached down and tugged Draco up also. “What do you say we raid the kitchens and ask Dobby for some ice cream?” he suggested, hands placed confidently on his hips. 

Draco’s lips quirked into a smirk. “I knew there was a reason you were a Ravenclaw.” He joked, nudging his friend with a shoulder as he strode past him. “Race you!”   
Both boys were off like a shot, their laughter ringing through the summer air as the sun set behind them. 

____________________________________________________________________________________

Head bowed, arms curled around his knees, Draco stared at the ground. Dread curled through his veins, but he didn’t dare look up. He shivered in the biting wind, feeling just as cold on the inside. _Weak. Useless. Worthless._ His cheek throbbed. The imprint of his father’s signet ring was starkly printed across his skin and painted with bruising. 

Arms wrapped around him, and a warm form settled beside him. “Drake, you’re enough. You’re okay as you are, no matter what your father says. You’re a good kid. I promise you that no matter what, I will always remind you: You are not alone.”

Draco didn’t cry, because he couldn’t. But his expression crumbled, and he buried his face in Henry Selwyn’s chest, his whole body trembling. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 _“Henry!”_ the boisterous shout came from above him, so the Selwyn heir glanced up curiously. A smile broke across his face when he saw Draco perched outside his window in the neighbour’s apple tree, shit-eating grin in place as he tossed an apple up and down in his hand playfully. 

Darting to the window, Henry slid the pane open and leaned out. “Drake! What are you doing, Old Man Haroe could be by any moment!”

Draco just laughed. “I’ll have to be quick then! I’ll throw some your way, so catch, dummy!” 

Ten minutes later, both boys sprawled out over the carpet, a trail of apples strewn across the room. Their eyes were bright with mischief, and their bellies sore from laughing and eating copious amounts of stolen ruby red apples. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Henry’s lower lip trembled as he tried to reign in how upset he looked, to stay strong. “They…they’re dead, Draco. My parents, my sister, my uncle…all dead.” His green eyes glistened with tears, and he closed his eyes to hide them. “I’m the only Selwyn left now.” 

Draco didn’t hesitate a moment before he rushed over, pulling Henry into a fierce hug. A determined, protective look shone from his silver eyes. “The Aurors will find those responsible, and we will make them pay. Henry, no matter what…you are never alone.” 

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Scarlet drops splattered across the white chaise, painting the serene room in gruesome violence. A scream was audible as a small body clutched his gushing appendage to his chest, sobbing in a mix of terror and pain. 

His wand was raised. He had just done that. How could things have gone so horribly wrong? 

Draco couldn’t tear his eyes away from his best friend, mute and frozen with horror. An overly firm hand grasped his chin and throat, tilting Draco’s face up to meet the furious yet vindictive eyes of Lucius Malfoy. “This is sacrifice. This is duty, and this is the result of your disobedience. Learn your lesson, and maybe you won’t make such a mistake in the future.” With a sneer, he roughly pulled his hands from his vice-grip around Draco. “Now go. I can’t stand the sight of you.” 

And Draco fled, faster than he ever had before, too numb and shocked to even look Henry in the eye. Green eyes watched him go, burning with betrayal and anger. 

Draco’s head pounded in time with his feet, but the pain in his heart overpowered it all. Because he…he had just maimed and abandoned his best friend, and nothing would ever be the same. _You are never alone._

Draco had turned his only lifeline into a lie with his own two hands. 

~End of Interlude~  
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Draco stared at the wand in his hands, lost in memories. In the past, he had tried to out-manoeuvre his father, and it had ended in disaster. It didn’t matter that his father had lied to him about the spell. Draco had still used it, had still caused pain to the only person in his life he truly relied on and trusted. He had still chosen to run from the only good thing in his life. 

Draco couldn’t say a word against Henry. Any revenge Henry decided to carry out, he deserved. He had run like a coward instead of facing his mistakes. Hell, he’d behaved exactly how his father had wanted. The simple fact that he hadn’t seen Henry since that day meant that his father’s plans had worked perfectly. Draco was simply a pawn on the chessboard. 

He had thought himself better than that, but as they say…pride comes before a fall.

After that day, he had promised to do better, to see the machinations of the puppet masters before it was too late. Yet, here he was trapped in another web of manipulations and unable to escape. Not only did it make him furious, it made him doubt himself. Had things really changed at all since he was ten? 

And this Dark Magic aptitude test…it had his father’s handiwork written all over it. He felt sick. It was starting again. He could see the strands trapping him, but not the web, which meant that he was pretty much doomed to be trapped by it once again. 

There were two positives in this situation that kept Draco from despair. Well, three really. First, his father hadn’t discovered his Sight. When that occurred, Draco knew things would be over, and he would have lost, with no chance of turning the tables. Second, he had overcome Imperio, which meant that his father’s standard method for controlling him was cut off. Finally, he had more people he could trust this time, people his father couldn’t cut him away from so easily. Viktor was untouchable because of the blood bond. Even trying to harm him by proxy would be impossible without harming the House of Malfoy as well. The Weasleys were mostly safe, as well. His father could perhaps strike at Arthur or Percy Weasley’s employment in the Ministry, but Draco doubted Lucius would bother. It was petty revenge, beneath a Malfoy. 

As for Severus, he was great at hedging his bets. Draco knew that his father would believe Severus was on his side, and therefore have no reason to harm him. Those who his father could truly harm were sheltered by their disassociation with Draco in public, like Theo. 

There was really only one person Lucius Malfoy could harm easily: Narcissa. But to strike at her would be to strike at his own weakness, as well. Family was a knife that cut both ways. 

So, no, things were not hopeless. Draco took a deep breath, trying to sink the thought past his doubts. His father would always be capable of causing him great pain, but he couldn’t destroy everything. Some things were out of even Lucius Malfoy’s reach. 

With another deep breath, Draco stood. He should see Severus; the Potions Master would be awake at this time anyways. Perhaps talking to Sev would ease some of his anxieties.   
Unobtrusively, Draco made his way through the corridors and to Snape’s quarters. With a soft knock, he paused outside the door and waited. 

Moments later, the door swung open. Snape looked unsurprised to see Draco outside. “Come in.” he stepped aside and waved Draco in brusquely. 

The two took a seat at the small table, not bothering with small talk. With a small, bleak smile, Draco spoke first. “What’s the damage?” he asked flatly. 

Severus Snape rubbed his forehead, looking stressed. “Things aren’t good.” He responded bluntly. “Miss Parkinson and Mister Nott are both being summoned. Potter and Longbottom, as well, but they will surely be protected. They both have powerful allies. Were you still under your father’s protection, I could say the same for you. The fact that you’re not…” the Potions professor trailed off, shaking his head. “You have allies, but they are young. Dumbledore and his lot would certainly try to assist you, but I’m afraid they will exhaust their resources protecting Potter and Longbottom. Of course, those two will be his priority.” 

Draco smiled humourlessly. “Undoubtedly. After all, he pities me, but he doesn’t see anything of use or value in me. Just a poor, misguided boy who is a coward and got lucky once.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he snorted. “At least I did one thing right.” 

Severus quirked a brow at him. “Indeed. Things could be worse. I’m certain you’ve felt that your father was behind this, and that is the case. Even I don’t know his end goal this time, but I suspect that these aptitude tests are a distraction, a ploy to hide something else.”

Draco nodded. “My thoughts were similar, but it still doesn’t mean that I can afford to ignore the distraction. That’s why he placed Theo and Pansy in the firing range as well. My own danger I could ignore, but not this. He’s also hoping to determine to what extent the Slytherins have fallen in line with me, hence Theo. I’ll have to assume his father will protect him this time, or risk showing my hand. As for Pansy, perhaps it is best that I let Viktor handle this one.” He risked a glance up from his hands toward Severus. His Head of House was watching him with a smirk. 

“You’ve certainly thought this through. The problem is that your father knows you too well. I am sure he would not be averse to hitting a target he did not aim for, but in this case, he is aiming for you, not the friends in your periphery. In this situation I believe you are correct. Your friends will be taken care of, but what of you? Leaving yourself unprotected is exactly what your father will expect, and that would be foolish.” Severus steepled his fingers together. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of that.” 

A hot flash of anger shot through Draco, but he steadied himself within a few breaths. “No. You don’t.” Pushing back his chair, Draco turned away from Severus. Lashing out would be pointless. Severus Snape was sharp and far from a people person, but Draco saw the same faults in himself. The truth was painful in this case, but that didn’t make it any less true. Draco believed that the truth was always necessary. People who believed lies either wanted them to be true badly enough that they lied to themselves or were so afraid a lie might be true that they tricked themselves into believing it. Draco refused to be so foolish. He couldn’t afford to be. 

Turning back to Severus and taking a seat, Draco gave his mentor an apologetic smile. “You’re right. But it’s also obvious that I don’t really have a way of protecting myself from Umbridge at the moment. And I can’t really fight against her completely, she’s all Henry has left.” 

Severus made a sour face. “You could, you just refuse to. There is a difference. But semantics aside, you should consider what your father stands to gain from this. Maybe between the two of us we can piece together his plan.” 

Draco frowned. “There are some things that have bothered me lately. My father’s not the type to play second to anyone, so I’ve always wondered why he chose to follow Voldemort. There is something Voldemort had that he wanted. It seemed a risky move for the pay-out, and he only narrowly escaped Azkaban because of his contacts in the Ministry. And speaking of the Ministry, they have been far too active as of late. Umbridge is not my father’s ally, but he has her dancing to his tune along with the rest of the Ministry. So, my father must have promised them something big.” He stood up to pace, needing to move. “After my disownment, I discovered suppressed memories. If he bothered to erase them from my mind, they were obviously important. There was a conversation between Lucius and my aunt about Voldemort’s prowess at possession, so that is significant somehow. He also erased certain information about the vampire clans and their hierarchy. The vampires always refused to serve Voldemort, so my father both hated them and respected them. In another memory he tampered with, I stumbled across a genealogy that showed how the Malfoys frequently intermarried with those who were strong with mental magic. Even worse, there was a note inside that indicated that my father may have had a hand in the death of the Selwyns.”

Snape looked immediately concerned. “That tells me more than you would expect, and I suspect that if your father knew you recovered these memories he would have you killed.” Gesturing for Draco to sit, he faced the Black, his demeanour stern. “Draco, as someone who is skilled in the mental arts, I can tell you that possession and mental magic are connected. If your father was aware that the Malfoy blood was strongly fortified with mental magic, he would also know that there is an excellent chance that Voldemort would be unable to possess him. Knowing Lucius, he likely intended to take this asset even further and use it as a weapon. With Voldemort in a place between life and death, now, I am unsure if his plans have failed. As for the massacre of the Selwyns, I have always suspected they learned something incriminating about your father and attempted to coerce him into doing something. Likely, his response was swift and violent.” 

Draco squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “And the vampires?” 

Severus shrugged, mouth twisting with discomfort. “I am unsure. But I do know how you can find out. By happenstance, Remus Lupin is owed a favour from a vampire after events during his schoolboy days. And I do believe that Remus Lupin feels rather guilty about certain events to do with you as of late.” 

Draco scowled. “I am still angry with him, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Is Black still hanging about like a fungus?” 

Severus stood, face sour again. “When is he not?” he asked, rather rhetorically. “He is staying next door to Lupin. They happen to be night owls, if you decide to pay them a visit tonight. But you didn’t hear any of this from me, as I’m sure you know.” 

Draco nodded. “I understand, Severus. Thank you.” He stood and left his godfather to his thoughts, heading instead of the quarters of Remus Lupin. On his guard, he knocked firmly. 

This time when the door opened, he was greeted with twin looks of shock. “Draco?” Lupin blurted, unable to hide the surprise in his voice either. 

Black was equally open. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, scowling. 

Luckily, Lupin still had manners. “Come inside, we can talk there. Would you like any tea?” 

Draco politely declined. “No, thank you. I have a matter to discuss with both of you.” His gaze was sharp, wordlessly informing Remus that he was still in hot water. They all settled into the small living area, Draco across from Remus and Sirius. 

Not allowing the awkward silence to settle, Draco spoke first. “Black, shit is about to hit the fan. Last chance to change your mind and let me leave.” 

Sirius chuckled. “Okay. Say I believe you. Why should I?” 

Remus clicked his tongue in disapproval, but Draco ignored him. “Lupin’s already told you about the magic aptitude test. It’s obviously a distraction of some sort. My father and Umbridge are both aiming at me, so whatever is actually happening at the end will hurt me. Obviously, Dumbledore and his do-gooders will rescue your precious Potter, and Longbottom if any resources are left. I’m at the bottom of the priority list. And if you haven’t noticed, that’s the case for everyone. I have no protection from anything the Ministry, my father, or a professor decides I deserve. If you decide to persist in this course, you will have nothing but yourself to blame later. And rest assured, I won’t forget your actions, either way.” Although in theory it seemed like Draco was saying he wouldn’t forget a debt, his tone made it clear that he wouldn’t forgive a refusal.

Sirius raised both eyebrows, a jovial expression still present. “It seems like a lot of paranoia to me. I’m not Dumbledore’s biggest fan, sure, but I have no reason to believe you and go against what he wants on your whim. Got any proof, kid?”

Draco’s expression was blank. Dangerously blank. “If I had proof, I would have a lot more options and certainly wouldn’t choose you. My father has a lot of enemies. Proof would grant me their aid, if only for revenge. So, no, I don’t have proof. But I do have a brain, and anyone with a smidgen of common sense can tell that something big is going to happen soon.” 

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, without proof, I’m afraid I won’t change my mind. I have no reason to make a dangerous enemy just because a paranoid kid is afraid. Sorry, cousin.” 

Draco clenched a fist, hidden against his side. “Understood.” Just like that, Black seemed to no longer exist before his eyes. He turned instead to Lupin. “Black’s paid up by connecting my magic, but you still owe me.”

Remus cautiously nodded. “What do you want? I’m afraid I can’t protect you this time, so if that’s it, it won’t work.” 

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I’m aware of equivalency. That’s not the favour. Rumour is, a vampire owes you one. I want to have a chat.” 

Sirius and Remus exchanged alarmed glances. Sirius spoke first. “Look, kid, the vampire clans never side with humans. They are a dangerous enemy and easily offended. You should rethink this.”

Draco ignored him, as if he’d never spoken. “Set up a meeting before sunup and this is a debt repaid. You can have anyone in Hogwarts pass the news along or send an Owl. I’ll be waiting.” He stood up and left without a backward glance, returning to Charlie’s rooms. 

The Dragon Tamer glanced up when he entered. “Blow off some steam?” he asked cautiously. 

Draco dropped into ‘his’ chair. “I talked to Severus. Then I paid a visit to Black and Lupin.” He filled Charlie in on what Severus had said, and what he had asked of both Black and Lupin. “He is supposed to set up a meeting before sunup.” Draco finished, leaning back and taking a breath. 

Charlie stared at Draco in silence for a moment before chuckling. “Damn, and here I thought you would be brooding in the Room of Requirement all night.” 

Draco sniffed, crossing his legs elegantly. “I prefer to channel my rage into more productive outlets.” He responded, but there was amusement evident in his eyes. 

Charlie snorted. “Of course you do. Well, I do have a question after all that. If your father was interested in possession, could it perhaps be because of the consequences? What happens if Voldemort tries to possess your father and fails? Would it weaken him? Maybe Lucius thought he could take Voldemort’s place.”

Draco considered it carefully. “I’ve never heard of any sort of cost like that, but possession certainly isn’t a Hogwarts-approved topic.” He sighed. “I can’t speak for possession, because he has never fully possessed anyone that I’m aware of. I do know that the Dark Lord is in the habit of projecting his consciousness onto another mind in order to overwhelm it or discover information. Once or twice he did it for pure enjoyment, too.” He paused, silver eyes flicking up to meet Charlie’s seriously. “I’m not quite sure how to explain it. I’ve seen the memory from several Death Eaters. It’s…well, mind rape, I suppose. The ultimate way that he proves his dominance over his followers and victims. He takes over and makes them divulge what he wants to know, or he just tortures them. Shows them their worst fears come to life, screws with their heads so much they forget their own names. They’re trapped in their own heads, watching someone else take control of their thoughts. It’s one of the reasons he had so many followers; anyone he encountered that wasn’t mentally resistant would bend to his will. Perhaps Lucius thought he was too dangerous to keep alive and was searching for a way to destroy him.” 

Charlie held up his hands, panicked. “Whoa, Draco. Too much information too quickly. How have you seen memories of torture? Surely you were not touched by Death Eaters often.” 

Draco tried a smile, but it came out frighteningly unhappy. “Too often for my tastes. Not in the way you’re thinking, thankfully. My father would never have allowed that. He did expect me to greet guests with a handshake, though. And what sort of host would shake hands with gloves on? That would be improper. Not to mention, we had a lot of guests. The disgusting things some of those monsters would do…” he trailed off, lips pinched together in distaste. Shaking his head, he continued, “There’s a reason that I couldn’t behave like a child when I came of schooling age. After my father decided it was time for me to start learning about the House of Malfoy, I was exposed to everything. Even as a child…it’s not as if Lucius was a saint.” Draco sighed. “I was terrified of him and abhorred him all at once. Through the years I could never choose one, so I mouthed off to him and cowered before him in equal turns.” With an ironic smile, he added, “To be honest it’s still that way a little. Knowing the things I know, I can’t be completely angry with Mother for abandoning me. She is even more terrified than I am of being pushed aside because she’s done the only task he needed her for: bearing and raising a child. She never quite grasped that Lucius was much fonder of her than he ever was of me.” 

Charlie rubbed at his temples, upset. “I see. Thanks for the explanation. Let’s move on to the meeting with the vampire clan heads. Why did you decide to jump in head first like this?” He was truly doing his best to treat Draco like an adult, and not criticise his choices before even hearing his reasoning. 

Draco’s small smile showed that he noticed and appreciated the consideration. “Vampires are secretive. Rooting around looking for information about them is just dangerous; they have eyes everywhere. At least by asking straight out, they will respect me more. Plus, since Severus told me that Lupin was owed a favour…even simpler. Even if they tell me nothing, at least I tried.” He paused, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “But somehow, I get the feeling that if my father was interested in something to do with the vampire clan heads, he must have known something I didn’t about their usefulness. Obviously, he was confident that if he was able to approach them, he had something of value to offer. Perhaps there is something I could offer as well.” 

Charlie folded his arms over his broad chest. “I may not know a lot about vampires, but like you said, no one really does. However, I do know that they are only interested in a human’s blood. What if they ask for a…donation of some kind in return? The psychic connection could have a lot of consequences. They would know everything.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Merlin, Char. There is no way I would agree to that. I’m not desperate enough for information that I would sell my body like that, or in any way. The risks are too high, and I don’t want to gamble when I am uncertain if there’s even a worthwhile payoff.” He glanced up, hearing a sound outside the door. “Likely my news from Lupin.” Stepping out into the corridor and closing the door behind him, Draco faced Sirius, who was apparently playing messenger. “And?” his tone was even but cold. 

Sirius sighed. “It’s set up. Tomorrow, midnight, the entrance to the Forbidden Forest nearest to the castle. Remus’s contact is called Cassius, and that’s all I know.” Grimacing, Sirius shifted on his feet. “Last chance to back out, kid. You don’t have to do this.” 

Draco waved him off dismissively. “I won’t change my mind. Message received. Tell Lupin I won’t make any more requests.” He re-entered Charlie’s quarters, leaving Sirius to his own thoughts. 

After stepping inside, Draco turned towards the Dragon Tamer, commenting offhandedly, “The meeting is tomorrow night. I suspect it will be brutally short or entirely lengthy. Only time will tell.” 

Charlie sighed, but nodded nonetheless. “I suspect tomorrow will be a wild day. Thank you for keeping your word and keeping me updated. Best of luck with Umbridge tomorrow.” Glancing at the clock over the mantle, he added, “Hopefully you can get some sleep tonight.” With that, he disappeared into his bedroom, cognizant of the late hour. 

After a short, informative chat with Viktor, Draco followed suit, hoping that the night would bring the clarity he lacked.   
_____________________________________________________________________________________

After breakfast the next morning, Draco found himself inside Professor Umbridge’s office with Pansy, Theo, Neville, and Harry. From what the other students had said, they were the third round of students summoned: the sixth and seventh years had been beckoned inside first. 

There was a tense silence after Snape, McGonagall, and Umbridge asked the students to take a seat. 

McGonagall broke the silence. “Professor Snape and I are here as observers only, to ensure that our students are treated fairly and compassionately. If you feel you are being mistreated, please speak up and we will remedy the problem.” She and Snape took their seats unobtrusively on the side of the office, eyes sharp with focus. Draco suspected they were there only because of Dumbledore’s interference. 

Umbridge was seated at her desk, pleasant smile fixed in place. “Thank you for your punctuality. As announced before, at this time you all will undergo individual evaluations to detect any Dark Magic performed. You will be called into the classroom next door in alphabetical order to undertake the test, which will be observed by myself and your Head of House. These tasks should not take more than five minutes each.” With a vindictive gleam in her eyes, Umbridge’s grin widened. “Mr. Black, you will begin first. Please follow me.”   
Swallowing down his nerves, Draco nodded his affirmation and stood to follow. Severus also rose to his feet, stepping after Umbridge, face dour. 

As the door swung closed behind them, Draco could hear Potter badgering Professor McGonagall about how ridiculous this whole process was, and Draco couldn’t help but agree privately. He followed the Potions and Defence Professors to the adjacent classroom, tense but outwardly calm. Inside there was a person who appeared to be a Ministry employee, at least judging by their robes. 

Umbridge hem’d and haw’d, raising her chin self-importantly. “Mr. Black, Professor Snape, this is Auror Dawlish, employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement within the Ministry. Auror Dawlish specialises in Dark Magic detection and is evaluating all the students I have called to my office today.” She stepped back, allowing the Auror to take over. 

Dawlish’s gaze upon Draco was certainly not impartial. His scornful eyes were obvious and in no way pleasant. “Mr. Black. How nice of you to join us. I suspected that I would see your face sometime today.” Not allowing Draco a chance to respond, he pointed with his wand to a nearby seat. “Sit, and hand your wand over to me.” 

Warily, Draco did as commanded, though he had made sure to leave his silver lime wood wand locked safely in his trunk. Any Dark Magic performed with this wand would have been performed nearly a year ago.

After performing a series of spells and charms, Auror Dawlish clicked his tongue condescendingly. “I am afraid I have bad news, Professors. Although the wand shows little sign of Dark Magic, the boy’s magical core is positively saturated with it. I must insist upon a complete examination. The amount here could qualify Black for Azkaban.” 

Umbridge looked delighted, but she didn’t have long to revel in it. Snape cleared his throat pointedly. “Professor Umbridge, Auror Dawlish, I suspect that what you are detecting is the aftermath of a magical attack. Unfortunately, a Dark Hex was placed upon Mr. Black very recently, an attack which has harmed Draco quite seriously. No doubt this attack flooded the magical core with Dark Magic, but this cannot be held against my student.”

Dawlish sneered, turning to face Umbridge. “Is this true, Professor?” 

Unable to deny it, the toad-faced professor nodded. “Yes, it is. But surely there are other methods?” her voice was sickeningly imploring. 

Auror Dawlish looked very unhappy. “No, I very much doubt we will find anything beyond such an impression. Powerful hexes override any trace of other spells within the magical core if they are traumatic enough.” Frowning at Draco, he muttered, “You are free to go for now.” It sounded to Draco as if he was speaking through clenched teeth. Likely because he was. 

Shooting Snape a grateful sideways glance, Draco left the room as quickly as he could manage whilst still appearing calm. He doubted that was the end of things, but it at least bought him some time. 

As he left, his two housemates crowded around him as Longbottom was summoned inside. “What happened?” Pansy hissed sharply, keeping her voice low. 

Nearby, Potter was trying very hard to appear like he wasn’t listening in. However, he was a terrible actor. 

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes, just barely. “Bought some time because of the hex in my dorm. Worry about yourselves.” Dropping his voice to a decibel that was barely audible, Draco added, “Pansy, Viktor has got you covered. Theo, nothing I can do without tipping everyone off. If your father doesn’t help, I’ll come for you somehow.” 

With a flirty wink, Theo squeezed Draco’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, pretty boy. My father will take care of this.” 

With a faint smile in return, Draco waved and turned to leave the room. He was stopped by a grasp on his wrist, causing a burst of Flashes. 

Quickly jerking his hand from Potter’s grasp, Draco faced the Gryffindor, scowling. “What?” he snapped. 

Harry sighed. “Look, I know you don’t like me, and after everything you probably have reasons not to. But I owe you, and Sirius told me you’re doing something dangerous tonight. Let me help you.” He requested quietly, too low for Theo and Pansy to overhear. 

Draco scoffed, eyes narrowing. “I can’t trust you to watch my back, and I have no reason to allow that just to assuage your guilt. Anyways, how do I know you won’t just make things worse?” 

The Boy Who Lived only blinked calmly in response. “Maybe you can’t, not yet. But obviously we are both being targeted in this mess. We might need each other’s help before this is over.” Taking a deep breath, he added, “I misjudged you in the past. Give me a chance to help, and maybe we will both be better off for it.” 

Draco held Potter’s gaze, trying to gauge his sincerity. He was walking in blind, maybe Potter would be of use in a way he couldn’t anticipate, either now or in the future. It would be foolish to refuse such a small thing, even if he hated the idea of doing what Potter wanted. “Fine, but pull your own weight. Eleven thirty, outside the wards. This is the last chance. Cross me and it’s over.” In a dramatic swirl of robes, he turned and left the room. 

Throughout classes the rest of the day, Draco turned over the meeting with Cassius in his mind, still trying to grasp what his father possibly could have wanted with the vampire clans. He didn’t have any epiphanies as the sun went down and the night darkened. 

At eleven, he slipped from his dormitory soundlessly and made his way outside the castle and its wards. Draco wore dark, unmarked clothing and had strapped his hawthorn wand to his thigh over his trousers. His silver lime wood wand rested comfortably inside his left sleeve. 

Dropping onto a nearby stump to wait for Harry, Draco stared up at the night sky, spotting for constellations to pass the time. Earlier in the evening, he had been struck by an intense headache, which left him staring at the ceiling for nearly an hour, weak with pain. In the chaos of Hogwarts, there were so many things demanding Draco’s attention. The headaches had fallen to the backburner, but Draco knew they would have to become a priority soon. Fortunately, he had yet to be struck down by a headache at an inconvenient time or in public, but it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out. 

A rustle of footsteps caused Draco to glance down from his perusal of the sky and meet Potter’s green eyes. The Gryffindor shot him an uneasy smile. “Wouldn’t have seen you there if it wasn’t for your hair.” Harry remarked awkwardly. 

Draco shrugged, barely resisting the urge to sneer. “The darkness is necessary for such a meeting.” Pausing, he regarded Harry suspiciously. “Did Black tell you who I was meeting with?” 

Harry squinted, trying to make out Draco’s expression in the dark. “He said it was a vampire, but that’s all.”

The blonde Slytherin sighed. “Yes. Well, keep your mouth shut unless he asks you a question, or unless I ask for your input.” Not sparing Potter a second glance, he strode toward the designated meeting place to wait. 

Before long, a dark shape emerged from the forest and bowed formally. As the form drew closer, Harry and Draco could make out dark hair and snow-white skin. “I am Cassius of clan De Lacy. I am here at the request of Remus Lupin, one we owed. Speak.” 

Draco returned the bow steadily. “I am Draco Black. I have come to ask for information.” He glanced sideways at Harry. “One who owes me has come along.” He suspected the vampire would work out what that meant: Potter was here, but not trusted. 

It was difficult to see in the darkness, but Cassius’s eyes seemed to glint approvingly. His very red eyes. “Then let us speak softly, for I know why you are here.” 

Shooting Harry a sharp glare which warned him not to come closer within hearing range, Draco’s gaze returned to the vampire. “Is that so.” He replied blandly. 

Cassius smirked, sharp eyeteeth protruding menacingly. “We have long been the friends of Seers, young one. I know the gifted when I see them. I also know your father. He tried to seek us out many years ago and failed.” 

Draco gaze sharpened. “I want to know what he was so interested in. But you seem to think I am here for a different reason. Why?” 

Cassius stepped in closer, eyes flaring crimson. With a pale hand, he reached out and touched Draco under his left eye. “The vampire clans owe a great debt to a Seer of old. Your questions can be answered, but the clan heads will want to speak with you. As a Seer, you are respectable. But you are still a human, and humans are foolish and impetuous. Your silence regarding our secrets will need to be insured.” 

Draco worried his lip between his teeth, considering the vampire’s words. “I will not make promises I cannot keep, but I will hear you and your clans out.” 

Cassius nodded. “This is acceptable.” Swiftly, he turned from Draco and beckoned Harry closer. “I recognise you, human. You are the child with a connection to Voldemort.”   
Draco watched in silence as Harry’s eyes widened. “How do you know that?” Harry whispered, seeming frightened. 

Cassius watched Potter expressionlessly. “Any vampire would see it. As I see the secrets that this one holds.” His eyes shifted to rest on Draco briefly before returning to Harry. “You are a human, and we have no history with your clan. However, I will give you a warning, because you travel in such company. Soon, you must run and not look back. Care for your own safety first, or everyone you love will be lost.” The vampire inclined his head politely. “Now, I have further business with Draco. Private business.” 

Harry looked even more anxious at Cassius’s words. “Draco?” he asked, turning to his schoolmate questioningly. 

Expressionless, Draco nodded. “Go back to Hogwarts. This is important, and I don’t trust you enough to have you overhear.” At Harry’s wince, Draco amended his harsh words slightly. “Even if Blaise or Pansy was here, I wouldn’t bring them along.” 

Harry’s gloomy expression cleared considerably. “Okay, I guess I’ll leave then.” He turned and began to walk back to the castle, pausing once only to throw an uncertain look over his shoulder. 

Draco disappeared into the forest with Cassius, expression blank but mind racing. “What did my father seek from the clans?” he questioned again. 

The vampire didn’t even blink. “Power. Lucius Malfoy has a strong interest in the mental arts, and even a wizard’s talents pale in comparison to the acumen of a common vampire’s mind.” Cassius sneered. “The human is an ambitious creature but lacks subtlety.”

Draco’s lips quirked upwards at the insult, but he said nothing in response. If he had to suck up to the vampires to get information, so be it. After being disinherited, he had no pride left to maintain, anyway. 

The remainder of the walk occurred in silence. After they had strolled through the forest for some time, Draco began to notice movement through the trees. Seconds later, he and Cassius were surrounded by figures with glowing red eyes. 

A vampire with dark hair aimed a glowing bow at Draco’s heart, fangs glinting in the moonlight. “Halt. Cassius, why have you brought a human here?” 

Cassius frowned at the other vampire. “He is a Seer, as you can surely recognise. We owe his kind a great debt. He must see the council.” 

Compared to Cassius, Draco would guess this vampire was younger by his features. He bowed formally to the newcomers but said nothing. 

The vampire scowled in return, refusing to acknowledge the polite gesture. “He does not belong here.” He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by the arrival of a new vampire. 

Cassius inclined his head to the new arrival. “Draco Black, this is my lady, Astrid De Lacy.” 

Draco watched her carefully, taking in the golden eyes and brown hair. Again, he offered a wordless formal bow. 

She smiled coldly at him. “The Seer. I assumed you would show up sooner or later.” Her eyes cut sideways to take in the unfriendly vampire. “I apologise on behalf of Damien’s poor manners. Please follow me, and we will finish this business in private.” Her gaze again switched, this time to Cassius. “Well done, Cass. It was wise to bring him here.”   
The vampire bowed in response, but he seemed proud at the praise. 

On the other hand, Damien only sneered again. “Let’s get this nonsense over with, then, and send the human back to where it belongs.” 

Astrid glared at Damien. “Don’t be uncouth; you are acting exactly the way you accuse humans of behaving. I expect you can at least manage basic hospitality.” 

Damien looked murderous but did not respond other than lowering his bow at last. Instead, he stepped a little too close behind Draco and gestured for him to move forward threateningly.

With a smirk, Draco complied, at ease and refusing to give the surly vampire the reaction it desired. 

Approval glinted in Astrid’s eyes as she walked beside him. “There are six noble vampire clans: Lascelles, Seymour, De Lacy, Craven, Blackbourne, and Villiers. The heads of the six clans will hold council with you now. I am the head of the De Lacy clan, while Damien is the clan head for the Craven clan. The rest you will meet shortly. I applaud your courage for coming alone.”

As the three arrived in a large clearing which appeared to be a village hall of sorts, Draco responded simply, “I have little to lose.”

Moments later, another four vampires entered the area. Astrid dipped her head respectfully. “Draco Black, these are the other four noble clan heads. Jairus Lascelles is the eldest vampire in Britain and the head of his clan.” She gestured toward the tallest vampire of the bunch with silver hair and pale blue eyes, who looked back at Draco solemnly. “Thora Seymour, head of clan Seymour.” Thora had shockingly red hair and green eyes which appeared completely disinterested. “Orien Blackbourne, head of clan Blackbourne.” Astrid gesticulated toward a younger vampire with dark hair and deep blue eyes, who inclined his head toward Draco. “Finally, Evelyn Villiers, the youngest clan head of the Villiers clan.” A young vampire with sparkling brown eyes and blonde hair smiled at Draco in a friendly manner.

As if a switch had been flipped, the six vampires moved to throne-like seats around the room, leaving Draco standing alone in the centre.

Thora spoke first, sounded incredibly bored. “To spill the secrets of the clans, a blood oath is required. No mental or psychic connection is necessary, but all vampires can smell emotions and detect lies. The blood oath will compel you to stay silent if giving information about the clans could harm the clans. It can be also removed at a later time if you are deemed trustworthy by a four-six majority of the clan heads.” 

Orien was the next to talk. “The blood oath will require one of the clan heads to drink your blood, but that vampire is also required to refrain from connecting you to them in any manner. Is this acceptable?” 

Draco calmly raised his chin. “What will I receive in turn for this oath?” he questioned boldly. 

Astrid chuckled. “Do you have no fear, young one? In return, you will receive what help we are able to offer with your Seer gifts. Many of your predecessors were weaker and did not require our help, but you will die without assistance.”

Draco’s eyes surveyed the six vampires, narrowed in thought. Unlike everyone else he had ever encountered, there were no colours from the words of the vampires. He couldn’t get a read on the truth of their words. Was the danger of throwing himself into this too great? Alarm bells were ringing in the back of his mind. At the same time, high risk meant high reward. Worst case scenario, he would be under the thrall of a vampire, but Draco was mostly sure that his Sight would prevent that. 

Taking the leap, Draco stepped forward. “I accept the blood oath.” He made quick mental calculations. De Lacy and Villiers seemed favourable to him, while Lascelles and Seymour would be more difficult to win over. Craven hated humans, which left… “From Blackbourne.”

Surprise registered on the faces of most of the clan heads, including Orien. Nonetheless, Orien stepped forward. “Where would you like me to draw from?” he inquired politely.   
Draco wordlessly offered up his forearm. The vampire grasped it gently and drew it to his lips, delicately sinking fangs into Draco’s pale flesh. After a mouthful, Orien drew back and swiped his tongue over the punctures to speed the bite’s healing. 

Stoically, Draco drew his arm back and faced the other clan heads. A small rune had appeared over the bite, and he glanced over it curiously. “Thank you.” He told Orien politely.   
The Blackbourne clan head smirked back at him. “Anytime.” 

A faint light appeared behind the vampire. Draco blinked, startled. That hadn’t happened before. “Has a Seer ever completed this oath?” he asked curiously, craning his head to look at the other clan heads. 

Astrid’s brow wrinkled in thought. “I don’t believe so, you are the first to seek us out after your ancestor which we owed a debt.” A wreathe of light appeared around her as she spoke. 

Draco wasn’t sure what this new development was, but he was fairly certain it was an unintended side effect that the vampires were unaware of. “I see.” He responded noncommittally. “And what of the assistance you promised?” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Evelyn wince. 

Damien cleared his throat self-importantly. “Only the consumption of powerful vampire blood will boost your own abilities enough to deal with your extensive Sight.” Unlike Astrid and Orien, a dark cloud appeared around him. 

Jarius smiled indulgently. “Not quite, young one. A vampire’s blood is one way we know of to solve your problem, human.” Again, a halo of light around the vampire. 

Draco hid a smile as he noted what the light appeared to mean: truth or a lie. He would have to test it further later, but if it was what it seemed to be, it was very, very useful. Perhaps this ancestor of his hadn’t been such a close ally of the vampire clans as they assumed. “I understand. But why not just complete the task and send me on my way? Why all the secrecy when I know so little?” 

Astrid sighed, seeming exasperated. “If it were that simple, you would be right. Unfortunately, a vampire’s blood will only be effective for you if they resonate with your magic. As you may have noticed, none of the clan heads fulfill that criteria.” She paused to let that fact sink in, not knowing the air was golden around her. “That means that we will have to expose our clans to you, which will undoubtedly take time. And the more time you are around the clans, the more you will come to know about us.” 

Draco frowned. “And how is that supposed to work, exactly? I do have other responsibilities: I attend school and it would surely be noticed if I disappear for large chunks of time.”  
Evelyn interjected timidly, “You will have to find a way, Draco. Have your friends cover for you and only come on the weekends, or on weeknights when you can disappear easily.”   
Considering this, Draco responded, “And what will I do? Just walk around your lands until I find ‘the one?’ That seems like a colossal waste of time, not to mention absurd. There must be another way.” 

Damien snorted. “Believe it or not, human, this is the simplest way. It also has numerous other benefits: drinking from a vampire you resonate with will boost many of your magical and physical attributes considerably. You’ve already met with tonight’s guard as well, so we can rule them out.” A bright halo of light. 

Draco eyed them all suspiciously. “And how do you know that I haven’t ‘resonated’ with a vampire already?”

Thora barked out an abrasive laugh. “Boy, if a vampire had resonated with you, they would have jumped straight for the jugular. They will find your scent…appealing.”

Orien seemed to find Draco’s question amusing as well. “While I can testify that your blood is indeed appealing, resonance is on a completely different level. It will be very clear, both to you and anyone else in the surrounding area.”

According to his assumptions about the light’s meaning, they were both telling the truth. “I see. So, you want me to encounter all the members of your clan in order to find the one that wants to jump my bones. Marvelous.”

Astrid’s eyes sparkled with humour. “It would be a pleasing experience, I assure you. Vampires often mate with humans they find resonance with. I am told it is beyond all other pleasures for both parties.”

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes, just barely. “I am uninterested in semantics, only the solution I am seeking. I suspect you wish to begin now?” 

Jarius nodded calmly. “Indeed, young human. Resonance typically occurs between two of a similar physical age, which for you includes young adult and adolescent vampires. We will begin with my clan. I will procure you a Portkey.” He waved someone into the clearing, presumably a vampire of his clan. “This is my assistant Liera. He has gathered those of a suitable age together and will escort you to the gathering place.” 

A quick eye contact occurred between the six clan heads before a wordless agreement was reached. “Since Cassius is the one who brought you here, clan De Lacy will take responsibility for your actions. I will accompany you throughout your search, and Cassius will be your liaison to the clans. Is that suitable?” Astrid spoke.

Draco nodded his assent. “Yes.” The vampires scattered except for Liera and Astrid. 

Liera spoke first, his face disdainful. “Come, human. The clan has gathered.” 

Draco followed the way Liera indicated, Astrid trailing silently behind him. As Draco entered the open space, many heads swivelled his way, eyes glowing red. Although he could see a few of them lick their lips, none lunged toward Draco or attempted to come closer. 

Astrid sighed. “I assumed it would not be so simple, but it is still disheartening. Nearly the entirety of this clan is here, other than those who are hunting or on watch duty. You will have to return next time, and we will check with a different clan.” 

Draco bowed his head, trying not to let his irritation show. “Very well. It is past time I was on my way back, anyways. I appreciate your guidance and hospitality.” Bowing low, he turned back toward the camp exit and began the long trek back to Hogwarts. 

He barely even remembered climbing into bed, and was asleep in no time.


End file.
